


Timberwolf Mountain

by Fiamma



Category: The Long Dark (Video Game), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Decided lack of clothing, Everybody Dies, Guns, M/M, No happy endings, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Suicide, References to selfharm, Snow, Supernatural Elements, The Long Dark AU, Very sad lonely Lance, Wilderness Survival, for real if you want a happy ending dont wait for me to finish this, violence against animals, wolf!keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-28 14:46:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16243826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiamma/pseuds/Fiamma
Summary: A year ago a disaster struck the earth as a worldwide aurora appeared and all electronics stopped functioning. It only took 4 months before the population had dwindled down to small pockets of survivors, scrabbling for resources in a last ditch attempt at survival.Lance Mcclain had been on vacation with his friends in Canada when all hell broke loose and they were forced to flee into the wilderness. Thanks to luck and the kindness of strangers, they survived the initial chaos. At least Lance did.But he's not as alone as he thinks he is.Will he make it through the winter? What happens if he does? Whats the point?





	1. What Happened

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated as I write more chapters/figure things out.  
> If there are tags that reference things that don't appear in the story it is because its coming soon™.  
> If you believe there are tags I should add, please tell me! Im kinda new to the whole ao3 thing/writing fic in general.

_It’s been a while, I wonder what he’s up to,_ Keith wondered idly, scratching his ear. Beside him, Shiro was fast asleep, hind legs twitching. Dreaming.

Keith yawned, his breath sending a small puff of vapor up into the darkness of their cave and his throat emitted a whiny sound. The man who usually passed through hadn’t come by like he usually did. The scent of his cloak was starting to wane.

The two wolves had been keeping an eye on him, ensuring he didn’t hunt too much, like they did with all other predators on their mountain, but now he’d been strangely absent for almost a week.

Outside, it had been snowing heavily for hours, and Keith wondered momentarily if the man needed help with the snow. Then he shot the thought aside. He had seen what that creature could do to a deer, let alone a wolf when threatened. Something he surely would be if Keith were to offer his assistance.

Keith grinned at the thought.

It had been early fall when they’d first seen the man, but the snow had already been lying thick.

This far north, it was only at the peak of summer that the ground laid bare.

The human had been gathering firewood, unarmed and too lightly clothed, when the wolves had picked up his scent. Camouflaged between the lines of black trees against the stark white background, they’d been close before he even knew what was going on. When Shiro stepped out towards him, growling, asserting dominance, the human froze.

Then he’d _growled back._

In the end, they’d danced around each other, the wolves sniffing out this newcomer, waltzing around their forest. The newcomer doing his best to act threatening, lashing out when the wolves had come too close.

Then they had parted and ever since a sort of silent truce had fallen between them. Now it was midwinter.

Keith spotted him often when he was hunting rabbits down by the ravine, but Keith never allowed him to realize he was there, ending his hunt the second he caught his scent.

The wolf pack from the southern part of the mountains had lost quite a few members in the man’s pursuit of warmth, and now he wore them proudly draped across his torso.  It gave another layer to the intricate smells of him.

_Wolf, human, rabbit, thistles, stone, ashes, fire, metal._

Keith yelped when he felt a cold snout in his ear.

To his right, Shiro had woken up, and was looking at him with imploring eyes.

“Would you like to go check on him?” he asked, his telepathic voice carrying to Keith like a smooth rumble.

“Check on who?” Keith asked innocently, turning his head away and walking a few feet to look out of the cave’s entrance. Snowflakes caught in his coat, but he couldn’t feel the cold.

“The human”

“No, why would we go outside in a blizzard.”

“Because I can tell you’re worrying”

“I’m not worrying”

Shiro sighed and sat back down, nuzzling an itch in his thigh before lying back down on the bed of wool they’d laid out. It looked like a nest.

“Then sleep. Tomorrow we hunt, you’ll need strength.” He said and snuggled into the cloth as his body started to transform. Within moments, where a much larger than average wolf had laid, was now a creature very similar to the human they’d been keeping an eye on. His naked form, eyes closed, covered itself as best he could and writhed into a more comfortable position.

Keith snorted,

“Won't you be cold?” he asked, incredulous that his packmate would choose a blizzard of all times to spend the night in his human form.

“I sleep better this way” was the muffled reply from underneath several layers of fabric. Keith simply snorted again and started walking out of the cave’s mouth.

“I’ll be back soon.” He transmitted, before the blizzard engulfed him and he couldn’t hear Shiro’s human voice.

He broke into a sprint immediately, enjoying the feeling of flying through the snow. The blizzard pushed and played with him, the harsh winds trying to redirect him, make him go in circles. But he knew the mountains better than the storm did, so he pressed on, undeterred.

For a while, he simply ran for the sake of running. His heartbeat thrumming in his ears, his breath coming in harsh pants, his tongue hanging loose, and despite the cascades of snow he felt warm all the way to the core.

Trees rushed past him in his endless pursuit. He ducked in and out of the undergrowth, jumping past hidden creeks and felt the rush of leaping over bottomless ravines. His paws crunched wonderfully in the soft newfallen snow. He had no goal, no destination, only a vague idea that he would return to the cave at some point.

He’d made it deep into the forest on the western side of the mountains before he saw a large pile of soft snow and with a gleeful yell he transformed into a human mid-leap. He landed on his back, immediately sinking into the pillowy whiteness. The cold was downright blissful. He felt like he was burning up from the inside – gasping for air greedily until he breathed in and let out a howl loud enough to overpower the blizzard.

It felt good. He felt good. All around him the blizzard roared, trees rustling and creaking, the snow muffling everything. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, breathing back in through his nose

That’s when he realized something was wrong.

It was faint, but he was certain.

_The scent of the human._

He perked up, his shape changing before he was back on all fours again, already running in the direction of the smell. The scent of the man wasn’t what was causing him alarm – it was an awfully familiar coppery tang that clung to it.

As he ran, his nose clued him in on the rest of the story. Through the blizzard, it was difficult, but he could hear the human’s frail voice shouting, growling, whimpering. So close.

Keith ran, pulse in his throat for reasons unrelated to the exercise.

He could smell bear fur and more blood, he could smell tears and fear. He sprinted through the trees, rushing along an outcropping before reaching the dip of the terrain where the scene from the scents was unfolding. The blizzard hid him from view as his eyes widened and he could feel a growl building in his throat.

The human was crumpled in the snow, trailing blood as he tried desperately to crawl away. Keith’s eyes followed the line of red, quickly fading as new snow laid on top of it. Halfway to the end, was a bear. It growled so deep that Keith thought he could hear it through the ground, and momentarily he wondered why on earth it was still awake at this time of year.

Then his body moved on its own accord, and he was rushing into the valley.

He did a last leap to land in between the bear and the crumpled mess of fabric and limbs behind him, fur standing on end and teeth bared.

“LEAVE” he commanded, and his inner voice was aided by the growl that tore through him so powerfully he felt his throat itch.

The bear hesitated, black dots flickering over Keith’s frame. It made a whimper of protest, and Keith felt its emotions transmitted to him. Fear, anger, an empty stomach. Keith noticed an arrow sticking out of the bear’s shoulder and a bow that lay half buried in the snow beside them.

He pushed against the bear’s emotions.

The creature lunged in anger and Keith just barely managed to duck before turning and jumping at the bear’s side. His claws dug in just as his jaws closed around the side of the bear’s throat. The taste of blood. Vaguely he could hear a yelp before a paw dug into his side and pulled him off violently. He managed to jump away before the bear’s paw swiped through the air where he’d just been - making a _whoosh_ sound.

“LEAVE NOW” he tried again, using every shred of authority he could muster. Another growl, the bear rushed forwards, Keith smacked him over the muzzle with a paw and leapt to the side again, luring the bear away from the human. The bear followed, obediently, blood oozing from where Keith had bitten it, dripping fresh blood unto the snow.

The smell sent a rush through the wolf.

He rushed forwards again, and again. Snapping, biting, jumping to and from. The bear managed to get a hit in on his shoulder, but in the heat of the moment Keith barely felt it. It wasn’t long before the bear was so tired it simply swayed from left to right, trying and failing to react to Keith’s fast attacks.

Keith knew it was simply a waiting game now. The bear was sending puffs of steam into the air where its skin had ruptured, the blood beneath it was melting the snow.

At some point the blizzard had stopped and the forest was deadly quiet. Above them, the aurora danced and bathed the whole scene in a blue and green light. The moon reflected in the bear’s eyes.

Then it collapsed.

Keith waited a few silent moments, heaving for air before he raised his head high and let out a long howl.

Then he turned to the human.

It was still lying on the ground, the snow around it dirty with blood, looking at him with eyes wide and face pale despite a surprisingly dark skin color. Vaguely, Keith realized that this was the closest he’d ever been to the creature.

It was gripping a knife, raised half heartedly above its torso, the other hand clutching its side. Its chest was heaving as though it had difficulty breathing. The different animal skins wrapped around its form were loose and made him look like a bundle of different animal corpses piled on top of each other. A wine-red stain was apparent near the ribs.

Keith let out a soft sound and took a tentative step forward. The man raised the knife higher, lips pressed into a thin line.

“S-stay back” he said, but his voice was shaky. Keith stopped, lowered his head and tried to make the noise again, but it was difficult. If this thing would just let him get close so he could lick his wounds clean and stop the bleeding he wouldn’t have to die in the snow.

He was snapped out of his annoyance when the human winced and started cramping, letting out a sharp sound as he fell back into the snow. He dropped the knife as he curled in on himself around the pain.

Then he went lax.

Keith blinked, confused, until he realized that the human had passed out. He let out a groan as he transformed into a human and walked closer. He wasted no time as he picked up the man, making sure to retrieve the knife as well, and carried him to a cave he knew was nearby.

His nostrils itched from the smell of blood and his fingers were numb from spending so much time without his fur, but he managed to unpack the man enough to reach the wound.

The bear had torn clean through the wolfskin coat, leaving three cashes over the ribs and, what Keith assumed had been in another attack, had hit the area badly, likely leaving internal damage. He’d laid down the human in the back end of the cave, where it was warmest, nestled between two outcroppings of rock and was now kneeling beside him, assessing the damage. His brows were furrowed as a small panic was bubbling in his chest.

 

_What would shiro do_

_What would shiro do_

_What would shiro do_

 

He leant down over the body, brushing his bangs out of the way before sliding his tongue over the wound. The tang of blood reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in two days, and he made a note to return to the bear carcass later.

It had been a long time since he’d had to heal something. Usually, the deer and rabbits that he and Shiro hunted were never able to seriously injure them before they brought it down and coming to the aid of wounded animals had usually been Shiro’s responsibility.

Keith had always been guardian of the mountain more in name than anything else.

He was in the middle of sucking off bits of blood crusts when he felt the human stir beneath him again. He was straddling the humans lap, an arm on either side of him, his head ducked between the creature’s naked side and still-clothed arm, when he looked up.

The sound emitted by the human could best be described as a whimper as their eyes met and even in the darkness of the cave, Keith could see the way the human’s jaw hung open under all his furs.

“Y-y-y-you” it stammered, “what- I- Uh – what-”

Keith sat up, licking his lips clean of blood and wiping the saliva away with his arm as he waited for the man underneath him to work through his panic.

“The wolf – the BEAR” the human continued and suddenly it was looking around frantically, as if it might be attacked. Keith kept him securely trapped between his thighs.

“Its dead, you’re safe” Keith said steadily, not moving his eyes from the man’s. The human’s hands then found their way to his side where they padded searchingly.

“My wound, I- I was- I was bleeding” he looked confused as his fingers came away clean.

“I healed you” Keith replied. Then the man tried to move and groaned loudly, clutching his side again.

“Well, I stopped the bleeding” Keith corrected sheepishly, hunching his shoulders slightly.

“Ugh, th-thanks” the man stammered as he took a few steadying breaths. He uncurled himself somewhat, leaving only a hand resting over his bruised ribs. Then the human’s eyes met his again and started travelling down. They widened comically on the way.

“God – are- are you naked?!”

Keith blinked and was about to reply before he was suddenly assaulted by the strange sensation of another wolf’s fur being forcefully pulled down over his head.

“You must be freezing – what are you thinking? Running around in a blizzard in nothing but- “ the human was rambling incredulously as he pulled the hood up around Keith’s dumbstruck face. As it turned out, the human was wearing what looked like a striped sweater underneath the coat and judging from the number of collars peeking out near its neck, he was wearing at least 5 other layers underneath. They were all mangled horribly around the ribs, red and sticky, and probably cold.

Before he knew it, the human had pushed him back on his ass and was inspecting his feet.

“No sign of frostbite – I swear you’re the luckiest son of a g- “he continued as Keith could only sit back and stare.

“Show me your hands.”

Keith obeyed without thinking, reaching out and letting the man hold his left hand.

The places where their fingers touched felt like fire.

The sensation jolted him out of his trance as he ripped back his hand and stumbled backwards before his back hit the rock. A small growl started in the back of his throat, but it sounded strange with his human vocal chords.

The man didn’t seem fazed as he simply held up the hand that wasn’t clutching his side in a placating motion.

“H-hey, its okay. Sorry, I just had to- you know” he trailed off, lips pressed thinly, “Its been a while since I saw another …” he swallowed, and Keith followed the way his adam’s apple bopped up and down gently.

“You’re not human, are you?”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Keith still shook his head slowly. To his surprise, the man looked down and a small laugh bubbled out of him before he rubbed his face in his hands.

“I’m really going insane, aren’t I?” He said, and his voice broke midway through as his shoulders shook in an emotion Keith couldn’t decipher.

They sat like that for a while. Keith sprawled out against a rock, the human sitting hunched over with his face buried in his hands, shaking every now and then.

Keith was starting to wonder why he’d done all of this. Was it a sudden urge to step up and be a proper guardian? Was it respect for a fellow predator? Curiosity? He wasn’t sure. The creature in front of him didn’t look like the fearsome hunter he’d come to know…

Then it hit him why there had been an arrow imbedded in the bear’s shoulder.

Had that idiot really tried to hunt a bear? He wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or be impressed by his bravado.

A groan from the Human pulled him out of his thoughts. Then he got to his feet and started removing the wolfskin coat.

“Hey- what are you?” the creature looked up at him through puffed eyes. Keith bent down and draped the coat over his form.

“Can you make fire?” he asked, kneeling next to the human.

“I don’t have any firewood-“

“But if I brought you some, you could?”

The human furrowed his brows and cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.

“Yeah I’ve got a firestriker with me but – Wait-“ he yelped the last part as Keith simply nodded and stood back up as he started walking towards the cave entrance.

“You’ll freeze to death!” the human called, looking like he was about to scramble to his feet to stop Keith from running into the night when he froze.

Keith had already transformed and was trotting into the snow, not heeding the whimper he heard behind him.

\-----------------------

 

It was official. No doubt this time. Noooooope.

Lance had truly gone insane.

Between the hunger, the bear and waking up to some sort of wolf-shapeshifter making out with his wound he couldn’t decide which part of his damned existence had been the tipping point.

He was still frozen in place, staring at the entrance where the aurora was casting gentle green shadows over the snow and the trail of pawprints that disappeared somewhere between the trees. He had half a mind to blink, barely registering the cold gripping his fingers where they were suspended in midair as though a gesture could’ve stopped the creature that supposedly just saved him from certain death from doing something as mundane as gathering firewood.

Because what _was_ that thing?

Slowly, he lowered his arm and put the coat on properly. Inside the cave, the rustle of his clothes was unbearably loud without the usual cover of snow to dampen the sounds that was now bouncing off the walls. He bundled up as best he could, wincing every time he moved in a way that caused a strain on his ribs. Shit, they might be broken. At least he wasn’t coughing up blood.

Damned bear. Why would it even be awake at this time of year? Lance grumbled to himself, wondering if he should’ve hesitated with shooting it. It hadn’t made any move to attack, just lumbered towards where he’d been hiding. He’d been afraid.

He made a mental note to return for his bow when he had time.

In the meantime, his eyes were fastened on the cave entrance, ever vigilant.

He'd had run-ins with wolves before, although usually never on these parts. It seemed that most packs avoided the area, and Lance had taken advantage of that.

Could it be because of the one that saved him?

He covered his nose with his scarf and breathed out slowly to try and heat it up. A puff of vapor worked its way through the fabric. He sat like that for a while, curled up and breathing slowly.

His eyes were getting heavy when he picked up on a shadow moving closer to the cave entrance. His pulse quickened, and his first instinct was to squeeze into a corner of the rock face and pray whatever it was didn’t see him. That plan was foiled quickly, the wolf trotting straight towards him as soon as it saw him.

He cursed inwardly.

Before, during the fight with the bear and when it had already been halfway out of the cave, Lance hadn’t gotten a good look at the wolf. Now, standing mere feet from him, he thought himself stupid for ever thinking this could be a normal wolf.

For starters, it was easily twice as big as any other wolf he’d ever seen. The snout was too short, the tail too long, the coat too shaggy, and black as the darkest night.

The creature released the bundle of sticks it had been clutching in its mouth and then, a second later, it caught them in human arms.

Lance gaped at the sudden transformation, earning him a raised eyebrow from the other man who had already knelt and started stacking the wood in a way that would allow it to burn.

Lance tried his darndest to keep his eyes on the sticks and away from Mr. Michelangelo’s David over there, once again wondering how on earth the dude hadn’t frozen off a toe or two already, supernatural or not. Lance was already having trouble with his butt freezing off even with his double layer of woolen undies and two pairs of deerskin pants between him and the cave floor. God he was looking forward to that fire.

“Fire” echoed the unfamiliar voice. Lance blinked, looking up at the wolf-man-shapeshifter-thing before realizing what he meant and ruffling through his layers for the pocket containing his fire striker and the kindling he always kept handy. He winced when he forgot about his wound and bent just so, but he quickly righted himself and extended the tools.

It wasn’t long before he was swept into a loving orange embrace of heat and he started relaxing against the rock he’d claimed as the support for his aching upper body. He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the flames dance over the sticks.

“Aren’t wolves usually afraid of fire?” he caught himself absentmindedly mumbling as he sneaked a glance at the man on the other side of the flames.

“They are.” Was the short reply. There was something strange about the other’s voice.

“Are you a wolf?”

“Yes.”

“Wolves can’t transform into people.”

“No, they can’t.”

“So, what are you?”

Their eyes met through a curtain of orange and Lance shivered when the other’s eyes reflected the flames. Like a cat, he thought. Do wolf-eyes do that?

Something seemed to be going on behind them, because it took a while before the other responded.

“I'm going to go get more wood,”

and with that, he’d left the cave again. This time at a full sprint.

Lance huffed indignantly and inched closer to the flames. He felt safer with the smell of smoke boring into his nostrils, felt like it would be okay to close his eyes and drift for a while.

Surely no bears or wolves would sneak up on him with a fire going. Surely the wolf-man-shapeshifter-thing would come and wake him before the fire died … surely.

It crackled reassuringly.

 

\---------

He woke slowly, a ray of sunlight hitting his eyes as he shifted and pulled his furs tighter around himself. Even without opening his eyes he could tell he had slept until noon. He’d gotten so used to keeping track of the sun now that watches no longer functioned, that he could quite literally tell the time with his eyes closed. But with the apocalypse, also came the lack of schedules, and so Lance decided to stay curled up in the warmth of the cave a little bit longer.

God, he was warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt heat like this, all the way to his bones. He let out a content sigh, licking his chapped lips and reaching up to scratch his arm.

Then the rock he was leaning on _moved_.

It was slight, but it had definitely readjusted. Lance frowned. He raised a hand to feel the rock he was sprawled over, checking to see if his previous assessment of his loss of sanity had been accurate.

He froze when, no matter where he tried to feel the rock, it felt _fuzzy_.

His eyes snapped open to be met with a sea of black fur.

Curled around him was the shape of a giant pitch-black wolf, breathing deeply, head nestled against his side, unnaturally long tail laid out over his feet. Memories of the previous night rushed back to him and he released his breath, struggling for a moment to get his heartbeat back on track.

He’s okay.

This thing wasn’t going to kill him.

… hopefully.

 

He twisted his head slightly, trying to see if its eyes were open. He still couldn’t see so he leant a little to the side-

“Fuck” he groaned as the pain made him see stars. He clutched his side, burying his face in the side of the wolf as he cramped. It came in waves, prickling then overflowing. He thought he might throw up.

He felt a small dot of cold on his hand and he looked down to see the wolf had woken up and had poked its nose near the wound. He caught its eyes and felt a shiver run through him.

Even in the daytime, they seemed to reflect any sort of light thrown at them. They looked like pearls in the pale noon sun.

Definitely not a normal wolf. Hopefully not going crazy.

“Im okay, ahhh” he breathed out heavily through his teeth as another pulse of pain shot through him.

“You shouldn’t be moving.” The words floated through his mind. The cave was completely silent.

He blinked, not sure if it had been a thought or if-

“Did you just…?” he asked blearily.

“Yes.”

_Telepathic?_

“Okay” he said, staring incredulously at the creature cuddled up against him. It nestled its head between its paws, ears perked towards Lance, letting him know he could still speak.

“So, uh, I never introduced myself” he started. “I’m Lance, what’s your name?”

“Keith.” The name rang pleasantly through his head.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” he quipped as he tried getting comfortable again. It was difficult now that he was intensely aware of how his every movement pressed against his ribs.

The only reply he got was a huff from the other creature.

“You could’ve just left me to die. Why did you save me?” The words left him almost as soon as he’d thought about them. He buried his face in the fur, even as the wolf seemed to shift uncomfortably.

“You were an idiot to hunt a bear”

“I wasn’t trying to hunt a bear – I- I’m not an idiot!” he bristled, sitting back up straight only to wince and cramp back up until he was lying with his back against Keith’s stomach.

“Stop moving” Keith reprimanded telepathically, and Lance felt an odd compulsion to obey. He huffed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean to fire at that bear. I thought it was gonna kill me if it found me – what? You think im cocky enough to try and kill a BEAR with bow and arrow?” he tried his darndest not to gesticulate wildly while offering his begrudging explanation of his predicament.

“Which, well, if it wasn’t in the middle of a BLIZZARD I probably would’ve been able to do anyway – thank you very much for the vote of confidence”

He crossed his arms and settled deeper in his wolf-fur nest, pushing his scarf over his nose. He huffed indignantly, trying desperately to remember some details of the night before.

He remembered aiming at the bear, how it had come rushing at him, the roar, the pain. He remembered feeling very warm on his side, and then very cold everywhere else. He shivered despite the warmth.

It took him a while to work up the nerve to say what had been nagging him for a while now.

“Thank you for saving me.” His words were muffled by the scarf and his unwillingness to admit that he had been one hit from death.

“You’re welcome.”

Hearing Keith’s voice inside his head was still strange. His mind wanted to argue that it was his own, just a thought, but it was so _different._ Wrong, weird.

It then hit him again how ridiculous this entire situation was. How everything after the whole aurora thing happened had been utterly ridiculous.

Sure he’d thought the electricity malfunction and resulting apocalypse had been strange, but that barely held a candle to a shapeshifting giant wolf.

“I have to go soon.” Keith’s words invaded his thoughts like a blast of warmth in the icy fear that had gripped his insides as soon as he thought about everything that had happened to him since the aurora. He pushed away the thoughts in favor of looking down at the wolf.

Keith had already started disentangling himself from Lance, and the cold he had dispelled in his mind came rushing into his body.

“Alright.” Lance responded, steadying himself as he crawled to settle against a rock. Keith looked at him weirdly.

“Where is your den?”

Lance furrowed his brows before realizing he must be talking about a ‘home’.

“Uh, its not too far from where I ran into the bear”

“Can you stand?” The wolf eyed his ribs, nose twitching. Lance realized what was going on and waved a hand dismissively.

“Psh, of course I can make it back there on my own – Go on ahead, I’ll make my way back on my own no problem” he said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. He personally thought he did rather well.

Keith eyed him unimpressed.

“Show me you can stand.”

Lance huffed and scrambled to get his feet under himself. He managed to rise about ten centimeters off the ground before he buckled, yelling a curse as he clutched his side. He could taste copper this time – not good.

Then there were soft, warm hands on him. He looked up to see Keith’s human form frowning at him as he slowly lowered him back to the ground. This close, his eyes were purple, and Lance could see the tiniest slit pupil. Then Keith hoisted him up bridal-style and Lance let out a yelp.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” he said even as he snaked an arm around Keith’s neck to steady himself.

“I’m going to get you back to your den, so you won’t die” Keith responded matter-of-factly, and his actual voice was so strangely different yet exactly the same as inside-voice-Keith that Lance didn’t manage to muster a response. So, he simply hung on, trying to ignore the little jabs of pain every time Keith took a step.

The light outside was blinding for a moment, then he scoured the white wastes; pristine in the morning after a storm. The snow crunching under Keith’s bare feet was the only sound for miles. Far away, he could hear a crow calling.

After spending what felt like an eternity in the wilderness, Lance had gotten used telling apart the naked trees and picking up on the smallest shifts of terrain. At the start, everything had looked the same, making him go in circles for hours on end. Walking and marking trees until he felt like he’d be swallowed whole by the freezing nightmare, until he was so tired he might as well have just laid down and given up.

Somehow, he’d always managed to find his way back to the cave he’d made his base.

It wasn’t a home. It could never be home.

Sometimes Keith would take a slightly longer step, or move to the left for seemingly no reason, jostling Lance and making him wince and cling on tighter.

Was he avoiding patches of deeper snow? How would he know where they were?

Lance knew new fallen snow was treacherous and could hide rocks and ice, but somehow Keith managed to never once stumble. He walked with a determined, practiced gait, eyes looking straight ahead and face set in a frown.

It was then that Lance realized just how strong Keith must be. Even without five layers of clothes and two layers of fur, Lance himself wasn’t exactly small, yet Keith seemed to carry him like he weighed nothing at all. Even after almost ten minutes of walking, his breath wasn’t strained.

“To the left now, right behind that ridge” Lance instructed, and Keith obeyed, moving gently.

Lance felt the usual flutter of uncertainty when his eyes strained to find the cave entrance. It was camouflaged well, with a smaller opening than most caves in the area, meaning it didn't look like much other than a slightly darker rock against the contrasting snow.

He found he didn't need to point it out to Keith, who was already headed straight for it. Maybe he had better eyesight? Perhaps he just knew the area that well.

Lance unclenched his hands from where they’d been digging into Keith’s shoulder. He looked up at the other man to see if he’d noticed, and found those pearly eyes fastened on him.

They both snapped their gazes back to the cave entrance as if burnt.

Lance blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the darkness once they were inside. Keith didn't stop, but continued towards Lance’s sleeping roll. When he lowered him towards it, Lance found himself reluctant to let go, earning him a curious glance from Keith, but finally let his hands fall to his sides. He pulled the thick woolen blanket he kept beside his roll over him and looked up at Keith.

The wolf-man-shapeshifter-thing was crouched beside him, elbows resting on his knees as he looked over Lance’s hideout. His gaze swept over the neat piles of firewood, the slightly more messy piles of kindling, bundled in serving sizes, then they continued to the designated ‘kitchen’ area, consisting of a large tub containing dirty dishes and a pillowcase stuffed with torn up jackets to sit on. Keith’s eyes flickered over the various bright colors of cans and bottles that lined Lance’s DIY shelves along with larger boxes containing cooked meat. His food store had seen better days, Lance realized, following the other’s line of sight.

Everything was centered around the carefully crafted fireplace. Large flat stones contained the ashes in a neat circle and acted as cooking plates; a pot sat half-filled with water on one. In another part of the cave was skins in the process of curing.

Lance looked back at Keith. The man was frowning, the slightest bit of his fangs bared. Lance blinked, surprised, and followed his gaze again.

Two hunting rifles rested against a rock to their left, and Lance understood.

“Don't worry, I ran out of bullets a week ago” he said nervously, eyeing Keith over his shoulder. The other simply narrowed his eyes and crouched down impossibly lower, eyes not leaving the weapons.

“I have to go.” Keith said, but didn't move. Lance laid back down properly and his eyes fastened on the wolf-man’s hands where they hung over his knees. Even in the dim light of the cave, he could tell they were blue. He frowned.

“Your hands …”

Keith looked down at his hands and raised an eyebrow, his uneasiness about the weapons apparently forgotten.

“They're blue?” Lance supplied, reaching out to touch them. His fingers brushed over Keith’s knuckles and his eyes widened. They were burning hot.

Keith looked at him strangely, then moved to stand up, pulling his hands away to rustle through the black hair framing his face. Lance pointedly looked away to give Keith’s nakedness some privacy.

Then he heard what he assumed was the click of claws walking over the cave floor, and he turned just in time to see the shape of a giant wolf contrasted against the brightness of the midday sun reflected in the snow.

“I’ll be back.”

The words rippled through Lance’s mind like a bubbling creek, sending a tingle through his spine, and it was only now he realized that inside-voice-keith wasn’t only communicating his feelings through the inflection of his voice. Somehow, he knew that Keith wanted to return, that this strange queasy feeling in his chest wasn’t entirely his own.

 

Lance shivered as he watched Keith break into a run.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter!!  
> Im pretty new to the whole voltron fandom and im honestly not sure what prompted me to start writing this haha.
> 
> Constructive criticism is very welcome!  
> Im also not sure what 'warnings' to put on this, so if there's anything you think I should add feel free to tell me in the comments, the last thing I want to do is cause someone distress ;_;
> 
> edit: Added an illustration of Lance and Keith curled up together! :D


	2. Keep You Alive

Their hunt was successful.

Keith waited a few paces away while Shiro tore into the side of the deer they had downed, looking away respectfully while waiting for his turn. The white of the other wolf’s muzzle was quickly stained red while his chest simply looked impossibly darker, matted with blood. The carcass steamed in the midday sun.

After the blizzard, everything seemed so perfectly pure; tracks and branches covered in a clean sheet of snow. Keith looked for any signs that they might be disturbed, but he knew the only creatures bold enough to interfere were the crows already circling overhead, cawing loudly.

“There is not enough to feed the human as well” He heard Shiro’s voice alongside the sound of his teeth tearing into flesh. Blood dripped from his tongue.

“The human is able to feed himself.”

Shiro eyed him, then did the equivalent of a shrug and placed his jaws over the softness of the deer’s shoulder. He pulled the bone off easily, making the carcass spasm and jolt. His first few pawprints in the snow were red as he trotted towards Keith and then past him, holding the food in his mouth.

“Allura requested my presence,” Shiro explained at Keith’s confused whine, and then, softer:

“Something has happened south of the mountain; her valleys are no longer good hunting grounds. She is starving.”

Keith watched him disappear between the trees, then followed the little drops of red in the snow back to their kill. He huffed as he walked forward to finally eat.

He and Shiro kept their herds well. They held a tight leash on other predators and were ever-vigilant in ensuring that life could continue as normal. Allura and her packmate, Coran, had always been more … lenient.

They had allowed humans to take over much of the land, cutting down trees and building strange dens. Now, most of the area to the south of the mountain, along the coastline of Great Bear, was dangerous for any wildlife, and even though Shiro didn’t speak much of it, Keith knew they had been struggling for a long time now. He had heard it from the crows, avid gossipers, and some of the herds that had migrated north in fear of human weapons.

Keith hadn’t questioned why Shiro never spoke of it. He trusted his judgement.

He knew Shiro would be gone for at least a week or two, that’s usually how long his visits to the south took, so for now it was his responsibility to keep the mountain safe.

Their kill this day had been a doe, almost two years old. It was fat and tender and Keith’s stomach growled in tandem with his throat as he licked the bones clean of meat. His eyes glanced over the matted fur and memories of Lance’s den flickered through his mind. The skins lining the walls, vaguely resembling animals as though they had been flattened, the smell of meat with a smoky tang, stored in something metallic. Stale. No scent of fresh blood to confirm it was still good to eat. He shuddered, it seemed barbaric.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if the human required assistance.

He had been wrong in thinking the creature would attempt to kill him on sight. In fact, it had been almost the opposite, comical considering the human stood a much larger chance at dying than Keith at that point.

Keith sat down in the snow and licked his snout, feeling full and warm as he looked up at the snowclad trees.

A crow had perched nearby, looking tentatively between him and the meal. Keith growled low in his throat. The crow fluttered to the ground and hopped closer, jerking its head and in general seeming none too threatened that a creature easily ten times its size was watching it intrude on its meal.

Keith eyed it but didn’t move until it was close enough to peck at the fur, then he lunged forward, snapping his jaws and barking. The crow cawed back and bolted into the air only to return to the ground a few feet out of his reach. Beside it, another crow joined, and Keith was suddenly aware of just how many crows were circling overhead.

He got up and placed his jaws carefully around the deer’s neck, lifting it so he could drag it next to him. Behind him, he could hear the crows following, calling to each other and to him about how unfair he was being.

Keith kept walking, largely ignoring them and not once releasing the carcass from his jaws. He knew he was making a mess of the snow in his wake, leading any scavengers straight to him through the trail of blood, which was why he opted for stopping a good distance from Lance’s den.

Most of the crows had dispersed, the few that remained did not dare get too close, circling overhead or landing in the trees, waiting for Keith to leave. He growled a warning that he’d be back, a warning he knew wouldn’t stop the birds, but they might relay it to other creatures who happened upon it.

The snow around the entrance to Lance’s den hadn’t been disturbed, something that both calmed and upset Keith.

He remembered when he and Shiro had used it. That had been years ago, when the winters had been harsher, before the aurora had started interfering. It was close to the herds, but close enough to Keith and Shiro for the wolf packs to stay away. Good choice.

He sniffed the air, and sure enough, the entire area was permeated with the smell of human. Alongside it, he could smell the deer carcass behind him and, curiously, Shiro’s scent was also quite prominent. It felt like a warm embrace, a push forward, for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

He could still taste iron on his tongue as his claws clacked against the stone of the cave. It was dark. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he easily found Lance’s form near the back of the cave. He let out a soft ‘ruff’ and saw the lump on the bedroll jerk in surprise.

Two blue eyes appeared over the edge of blankets. For a moment, they simply stared at each other.

Lance looked … bad. Not that Keith had a very good idea of what ‘bad’ looked like in humans, but he himself had once been ill and stuck in human form for a week until Shiro had made him drink some nasty liquid made from mushrooms. He shuddered at the thought and the motion compelled him to move forward until he could sniff the bottom edge of the bedroll.

Lance’s forehead and hair was matted with sweat and he looked pale. His eyes flickered around Keith’s face.

“Hey, I was starting to worry” Lance said, voice hoarse.

Keith unknowingly emitted a whiny sound and moved forward to sniff at Lance’s face.

“I brought food. Its outside.” Keith transmitted, unable to keep worry from seeping through. He was suddenly very aware of the lack of Shiro.

He cursed inwardly for not asking for help.

Lance had laid back down, his brows furrowed slightly as though he was in pain.

“That’s-“ Lance coughed, “That’s nice” he finished, managing a smile.

“What can I do?” Keith asked.

“You don’t have to- I-“ Lance seemed to reconsider, watching Keith sit down next to him.

“I can’t stand up.” Lance said and there was despair in his voice. “I don’t dare until it either heals or …” He looked away, and Keith realized there was no fire going. When lance spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m going to die.”

“No, you’re not.” Keith said in a flash of anger, growling as he transformed and set to work building a fire using the wood he’d seen the day before. He could feel Lance’s eyes on him, ignored his weak protests.

“Fire” he said, holding out a hand for Lance to give him the fire striker. Lance’s lips pressed into a line as he shuffled under the furs, using the arm opposite his wound to reach his pockets, groaning in pain as he accidentally shifted his spine. Keith furrowed his brows and put a placating hand on Lance’s shoulder to make him stop.

“Where is it, I’ll help” he mumbled, already reaching under the blanket to pad for the rod-like shape. The smell of dried blood hit his nostrils at the same time as his hand touched something _crusty._

He padded around but couldn’t find any wounds, then he looked at Lance who looked away. He started pulling the fabric downward for which he received a whimper from the human, but otherwise there was little protest as he revealed the same furs he had seen the day before.

The blood had dried, and Keith knew from the smell that sweat had permeated the layers underneath. He wrinkled his nose.

“How do you clean?” he asked, looking back up at Lance who had started shivering. Keith remembered the need for warmth and, now that he had a better view, quickly located the pocket containing the fire striker. He moved to reach for kindling as he heard Lance rustle with the blanket behind him.

“Melt snow and rinse, then dry by the fire.” Keith felt something curl inside him when Lance started coughing again from speaking.

After the fire was stable, sending a harsh flickering orange tinge unto every surface it could reach, Keith started the process of melting snow. While waiting for the crystals to melt, he retrieved fresh clothes for Lance. He laid them in a pile next to him along with the entire stack of blankets he had found and knelt next to the bedroll on the opposite side of the fire.

Carefully, and a little unsure, he undressed the man. Lance guided him, lifting limbs where he was able and letting Keith lift where he was not.

The wounds were not as bad as he thought. Lance definitely had a fever, but the gashes on his ribs were nothing more than silver lines against his skin, thanks to Keith’s healing, and there was no dark patches in the area to suggest internal bleeding. Considering the pain in his ribs, Keith was certain they were broken, but that would heal with time and rest. Additionally, his ankle was swollen, but Keith considered that a minor injury since there was no chance Lance was getting on his feet anytime soon anyhow.

He released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding as his eyes swept back up to meet Lance’s, ready to give a diagnosis. He frowned when he found the other’s cheeks tinged red where before they had been deathly pale, and Lance’s eyes trained on him with such an odd combination of soft and ragged emotions.

“You’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you” Keith managed to say, although his own voice sounded foreign to his ears. His words seemed to snap Lance out of his thoughts and the other looked down at himself over his nose, running the hand on his good side over his scarred ribs.

“You know about this stuff?”

“I’ve helped heal deer and birds before.”

Lance seemed content with that and allowed Keith to wash him with a piece of cloth wetted with the warm water from the fire. He was was very careful not to move him around too much as he lifted his arms to wash armpits, chest and waist.

He noted how sunken Lance’s body looked; not at all like his own or Shiro’s. Where Keith had toned muscle, Lance’s bones jutted out jarringly across skin that was too loose. His hipbones rose like sharp peaks over his abdomen as Keith moved to remove the cloth covering his nether regions. Suddenly Lance’s hands jerked up from where they had been lying motionless at his side which elicited a groan from the man and made the arms crumple to the bedroll once again.

Keith snapped his eyes up at him, ready to reprimand him for moving but Lance spoke first.

“I can do that part on my own, please.” He whimpered.

“You can't reach” Keith said, incredulous as he continued pulling down the cloth, lifting it off the ankles and throwing the soiled underwear away to the pained protests of Lance, flailing to stop him but ultimately failing.

“God, i'm so sorry. I just - I couldn’t move and, and it just-” Lance started, but Keith shushed him and dipped the cloth in the water again. He had waited with that part for last on purpose, recognizing the smell of feces and old urine. The smell wafted over him now that the blood and sweat was gone and his nose crinkled. It was strange, the smell had never disgusted him in wolf-shape, it was a clue to find prey, after all, or a territory-marker.

Now he felt like he might puke, but he kept his face carefully neutral as he lifted up Lance’s legs to wipe him down. It took several rinses of the cloth before he was satisfied Lance was clean.

Dressing him was surprisingly easy, now that they had a fire going and it wasn’t necessary to wear all five layers.

The tight thermal underwear made him look strange; much more gangly than before. The loose blue sweater swallowed him up in its long sleeves and fuzzy wool, patterned with zigzagging lines and little black dots.

Keith added another log to the fire.

After the bath and fresh clothes, he looked a lot better. It gave Keith a strange sort of warm satisfaction when he looked over and found Lance asleep, face relaxed, lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Keith knew he still had a fever, but some of the color had returned to his face, and he’d even chuckled earlier at something Keith hadn’t heard.

Slowly, he rose and picked up the pot of dirty water. He washed it in the snow outside, creating a brown spot next to his own footprints. Then he filled it again, boiled the water in it, rinsed it again and was finally satisfied it was clean. He melted fresh snow and waited for it to boil before he placed it aside and sneaked a peek at Lance.

Still sleeping. Snoring gently.

Keith’s gaze lingered a moment before he went to explore Lance’s den, keeping a good distance from the weapons still propped up against the rock where he had seen them the day before. He started with the furs, touching the strange dried skin the hairs were attached to and wondering how the human had managed to remove them from the carcasses so cleanly. He ran his hand over a wolf-tail jutting out of the end of a black skin, topping a pile, and for a moment he wondered what he himself would look like, flattened, dried.

A flicker of fear ran through him, along with… respect? He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It felt like a challenge.

The sheer amount of furs made him wonder how many he and Shiro had hunted. Sure, they didn't hunt other wolves, but there were plenty of deerskins present too. It made him suddenly aware of just how many animals lived and died on the mountain, of the balance of predator and prey. It made him think of Allura.

If just one human could consume this many animals, what would two? Five? A hundred? He shivered unwillingly and decided to move on.

He wondered what the purpose of the branches laid out over the stacks of rocks were. They were clearly not used for kindling, despite standing close to the fire, and seemed to not have been moved for a long time. They were lined with bits of metal in bright colors, along with jars and other containers from which he thought he could smell food. He didn’t dare touch any (the whole rock-stack and stick contraption looked like it might crumble at any moment) but settled for leaning very close and sniffing at the strange markings covering the various items.

He thought he heard a ruffle behind him and turned just in time to see Lance’s face turn towards him. One eye was open, and Keith was relieved to see it seemed clear and aware, albeit a bit sleepy.

“Go back to sleep” Keith reprimanded, not moving from where he was standing half-turned towards the lying figure. Lance opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. Keith frowned.

“Are you cold?”

Lance shook his head gently.

“Are you hungry?” Keith continued. Another shake, but this time Lance opened his mouth before Keith could ask something else.

“Will you-” he paused, and for just a split second his gaze travelled down, then back up to meet Keith’s.

“Will you please put on some clothes?” he whimpered, “D-don’t look at me like that! It’s not because I- You’re worrying me sick walking around like that!” he huffed and Keith was certain his face had not been that red before. He arched a brow and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I wont get cold, if that’s what you worry about.”

Lance had burrowed himself underneath his blanket, but his legs stuck out at the bottom, thin and swathed in blue and red cotton.

“That’s- ugh, nevermind” Keith heard him mumble. He walked forward, crouched next to the bedroll and lifted a corner of the blanket. He was met by a pair of resolute blue eyes. Keith felt something stir inside of him.

“You really don’t have any sense of self-consciousness, huh?” Lance muttered.

“I thought you preferred me like this over a wolf.”

“I do. But I just … Humans don’t usually walk around naked like that.”

Keith shrugged.

“I’m not a human.”

“But I _am_.” Lance whined, “Seeing you like that, it’s-” Keith’s eyes caught on the way Lance bit his lip. “It’s been a while since I’ve … Since I saw other humans.”

He felt something in him wanting to argue for the sake of principle, but glancing over the pleading look on Lance’s features, he relented.

 

God, it was itchy. Keith felt like his skin was rubbed raw from scratching himself. But he was clothed, and Lance’s behaviour had lightened considerably, which also seemed to make him more likely to follow Keith’s instructions on how to get better. Keith was honestly surprised at how lightheartedly Lance was chatting with him, considering the state he’d been in that morning. Was he faking it?

Lance introduced him to washing clothes, explained that the colorful pieces of metal on the rock-stack and stick contraption contained food and showed him how to open them.

 

Keith let out a growl as the can-opener nicked his finger and a fat drop of blood snaked its way down to his wrist. He caught it with his tongue, and licked back up the length of his hand. Once he removed his mouth, the cut was gone. He looked up to see Lance gawking at him.

“How did you-” He started and let out a chuckle in disbelief. “What even are you! Is that why my ribs are already-”

Keith wondered if Lance ever finished his sentences before whirling along to the next, while he patiently let the human inspect his thumb.

Lance was still lying on the bedroll, propped up with some skins behind his back to let him use his hands more freely. Keith’s skin felt like fire where their hands touched, just as it had the first time. It made him wince and he had to fight not to withdraw, bite his lips or growl.

Lance must’ve noticed, because he quickly let go again.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-” But Keith had already clutched Lance’s hand tighter, not allowing him to escape. Was this another human thing? Like the no-clothes issue?

There was a moment of tense uncertainty before the other visibly relaxed.

Lance stretched out Keith’s palm and traced the silver lines of scars that marred it, muttering to himself along the way but seemingly not expecting any answers. Keith watched him silently, sitting next to him wearing a sweater and thermal underwear, legs crossed and resting his chin in one hand while keeping the other extended. The fire crackled.

He felt too warm.

In the back of his mind he wondered if the deer he had brought would still be there in the morning or if the birds would have picked it clean. Perhaps Lance could use the skin? He wondered if the human had ever skinned any of his and Shiro’s prey after they had finished eating.

He made a mental note to stick around and check once Lance got better.

 

It was dark when Keith heard the distant call of a wolf pack, perking up from where Lance had been showing him something with a small metal rod and thread to repair holes in clothes. He had long since given up trying to get the human to sleep, he found that Lance had an incredible amount of jittery energy, especially when bedbound, and was stubborn to boot. No matter his threats or reprimands, Lance had stayed awake, arguing that he needed to keep a regular sleep cycle or he would only get worse.

Keith wasn’t sure if that was true, but didnt know enough about humans to refute it, so he’d let his own curiosity get the better of him and started asking questions about the den and about humans in general.

He had trouble remembering everything, but the conversation seemed to keep Lance occupied so he wouldn’t think about the possibility of his ribs not healing properly.

Now, Lance put down the piece of clothing he had been mending and followed Keith’s gaze out the entrance of the den.

“They won’t come here right?” Keith could hear fear and weariness intertwine in Lance’s voice. He shrugged.

“They might smell the carcass I brought, although its likely picked clean by now.”

A beat of silence, Keith heard a lone wolf call back for the pack, his ears straining to understand.

 

“You wouldn’t let them eat me, right?”

Keith looked over at Lance, incredulous, one eyebrow raised. What on earth would make Lance think Keith would literally throw him to the wolves after saving him from a bear and tending to him for the entire day? Then, something warm flared up inside him as he smirked to reveal some of his fangs.

“Maybe not if you go to sleep.” he all but purred. Lance’s eyes snapped back to his in an expression Keith hadn’t seen before and then he pursed his lips in a pout.

“How can I be sure _you_ wont eat me in my sleep?”

“Because I have taste buds” Keith replied easily, scratching his bicep through the wool.

“Are you implying that I, _Lance Mcclain_ , would not be the _tastiest_ thing on the mountain?” the human huffed indignantly, and although he put on quite a show trying to appear offended, waving his arms as best he could and contorting his face in odd grimaces, Keith felt like the playful verbal jests solidified something between them. The truce they had shared before the bear was building into something Keith was reluctant to call packmate-ship. Perhaps it was more akin to what Shiro shared with the herds of deer, something to solidify Keith’s guardianship. Perhaps this was his chance to prove to the mountain that he too could help and heal and stabilize, that he was a true guardian, that he wasn’t just an overgrown wolf. Perhaps all he’d needed was a chance to help where Shiro hadn’t gotten there first.

He felt a little giddy at the thought, and it only solidified his intention to help Lance get better.

 

In the end, Lance had finally drifted off to sleep with the promise of Keith standing guard in case the pack of wolves dared venture this close to the Guardians’ territory - something Keith thoroughly doubted, but he liked the feeling of being considered useful; strong. He added some more logs to the fire to keep it going since Lance had insisted on wearing nothing but thin soft fabric he had called a ‘tshirt’ and his thermal underwear under the blanket.

 _‘In case I start sweating again, you won’t have to wash five layers’_ Lance had reasoned before settling down on his back and closing his eyes with a content smile.

 

Keith waited until he was certain Lance was asleep and the fire was stable before shedding his clothes and returning to wolf-form. He shuddered and shook his fur from one end to the other.

He considered curling up next to Lance for just a moment, eyes glancing over his sleeping face, but he reconsidered. He felt antsy after spending the entire day in human-form. He wanted to run, to feel like a blizzard rushing over the mountain, to fly, to reconnect with the mountain springs and canyons.

In the back of his mind came a voice came chiding him for going back on his word to guard Lance through the night, but he promised it he’d be back before the fire died.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting a feel for the characters, not many big plot things going on yet, and probably wont for a little while, so for now its ... sorta fluffy?
> 
> And more art!


	3. Things of the Old World

Days passed in a gentle blur and Lance felt like he was going out of his mind.

Between the pain and being bed bound because of said pain, he felt like a sitting duck, just waiting to get eaten, to be snowed in, to run out of supplies. After the aurora, he’d had plenty of reminders of what doing _nothing_ would get you.

 

_Hunk…_

 

He suppressed a sob that threatened to send another shot of pain through his ribs, but he couldn’t stop the way his breath shook when he exhaled. He missed strong arms clutching him tight, missed having a warm shape pressing against him as he slept, he missed the intimacy. _Touch._

The mere presence of another human being. Anything.

 

And then there was Keith. The wolf-shapeshifter-boy-thing that Lance honestly still considered might be a hallucination if it hadn’t been for the fact that his supply of firewood had continuously been restocked while he slept. It simply seemed too ridiculous to be anything but a trick of the mind, the last nail in the coffin to confirm that too much solitude, too much constant paranoia, too much stress led to the mind finding strange coping-mechanisms.

He was everything Lance needed right at that moment, fit the bill right on the money. Something to keep predators away, a protector, a caretaker and with enough nudity and casual touches to help ease some of his intimacy-cravings. It was … suspiciously convenient.

 

He reached for the container of deer-jerky he’d had Keith place next to his bedroll and munched some down. The meat was tasteless and tough. Salt wasn’t in great supply in the wilderness and he hadn’t thought to bring any when he left the mountain town.

Not after …

Another jab of pain, but not from his ribs. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't try to stop the tears welling up in his eyes.

An odd thought flickered through him to try and season the meat with the salt from his tears and it made him grin sadly against the painful throb of emotions that threatened to pull him apart.

 

He was alone. The fire next to him crackled steadily, the smell of pine needles and sap made his nose wrinkle with how sweet the air felt. He was alone and in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles from any sort of civilization. He chewed slowly, then closed the lid on the crate.

He remembered a time where food gave him pleasure, felt himself grasp desperately for that feeling but ultimately falling short.

Everything was just calories; ‘x’ amount per day, making sure there was enough for tomorrow, prepared to be stored for a long time, not to be enjoyed. Tasteless and guilty. Never a bite too much because what if that bite would save him from starvation later?

 

He tracked the hours by the light coming in through the cave-opening. Despite insisting on trying to keep a regular sleep schedule, Lance had found it difficult to keep any sort of rhythm during the days he spent lying on the bedroll.

He had already mended what clothes he could, prepared new kindling, sharpened his knives and his axe, cleaned the guns inside and out. He’d finished another pair of deerskin boots, just in case, along with a pair of rabbit mittens from the skins Keith had brought him. Now he was at a loss for what to do, stuck in his bedroll-prison. The fire had been going for at least seven days straight, constantly prodded and tended to by Lance.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent so much time in one place.

 

The nightly visits from Keith were a sore relief. Lance’s heart fluttered when he heard the telltale clicks of claws against the stone and every single night he received a reprimand for turning too quickly and groaning in pain.

 

Tonight, he barely heard Keith’s arrival through the roar of the blizzard that had been raging all afternoon. The wolf all but flew through the thick bank of snow accumulated outside the entrance and skidded gracefully to a stop in the orange light. He shook his fur, sending small white projectiles flying to the floor around him.

Lance watched with wide eyes as the creature transformed, fur rustling and crawling away from limbs as he smoothly raised his upper body to stand on two legs. Pearly eyes trained on Lance the entire time and making him shiver.

 

“Hey” Lance heard his own voice say, far away. His mind was preoccupied with keeping his face neutral and stop his eyes from wandering - at least until Keith moved to the pile of clothes he had claimed for his own, a bright yellow hoodie at least three sizes too big and black thermal long-johns, and put them on.

When Keith knelt to check on the fire, Lance caught a whiff of _Hunk_ mixed with _Keith_ and it sent his heart tumbling in three different directions all at once.

 

“You alright buddy?” he asked when he realized Keith hadn’t responded to his greeting. He reached out to touch the wolf-boy on the shoulder, but froze when the other, as if on cue, jumped straight through the flames and landed weightlessly on the other side of the fire, crouching with both hands on the ground. Lance blinked. Keith’s eyes were wide when he turned around to face Lance through the curtain of orange.

They both sat stunned for what felt like an eternity and Lance’s stomach sank when he watched Keith’s lips curl the slightest bit upward. His fangs were an unsettling sight, all jagged edges and black gums.

“Please don’t touch me.”

He sounded unsure, unsettled … scared? Lance was confused, what could have prompted such a reaction? It made no sense, he’d been so free with his touches in the days prior - going so far as to reach out when Lance pulled away.

A scary thought occurred to him - Was the instinct to devour him starting to take over Keith? Was the idea of an easy meal taking root? He squinted at the boy on the other side of the fire.

Keith’s face turned to a frown as he read Lance’s thoughts perfectly.

“I’m not going to eat you” he deadpanned.

Lance pouted.

“How would _I_ know?” He cried indignantly, feeling exposed even as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “First you’re all touchy touchy and basically won't leave me alone and now you're like-” he raised his voice an octave and gesticulated with his hands, “Don't touch me! Nooo!”

Keith huffed, but the edge of uncertainty left him, much to Lance’s relief.

For a while they simply sat in silence, apart from Lance’s instructions on how to prepare dinner. The tomato soup felt hearty despite being watered down and there was something cozy about slurping soup while a blizzard raged.

He kept catching Keith watching him, only for the other to quickly look away, feigning interest in the fire, or the hem of his hoodie or _the rocks at his feet_. Lance raised an inquisitive eyebrow but reasoned that he was probably just as much a stranger to company as Lance was at this point. Speaking of …

“Are you alone out here, by the way?” Lance asked.

“What do you mean?” Came the suspicious answer.

“Like … are there other wolf-shapeshifter-things running loose on the mountain?”

Hesitation. Keith’s eyes watched Lance carefully when he spoke.

“Three others.”

“ _Three?_ ” Lance exclaimed and nearly dropped the banged up can of soup he’d been clutching tightly in anticipation. Keith raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't move.

Lance had been fully prepared for Keith being a singular thing, still halfway certain he might just be made up. Part of him had perhaps also hoped that Keith was just as alone as Lance was. Knowing he had others … Lance couldn’t quite put words to his emotions. Jealousy? He could feel the telltale sting behind his eyes and knew instinctively that it was more complicated than that.

“I … see.” He managed to mutter before gulping down the rest of the soup as though his life depended on it. So apparently Keith wasn’t a stranger to company, after all.

 

“They won’t eat you either” came Keith’s tired voice before Lance could even think the thought. His head snapped to the other as he bristled.

“I wasn’t going to-” but he stopped, huffing. It _was_ good to know.

“Do they know that you… you know? About me?” Lance asked, fiddling with the empty can in his hands, peeling at the label.

“Sort of.”

“What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

“They know you exist” Keith supplied, but Lance couldn’t help but notice the way the other’s eyes jerked away slightly - lying? He squinted again.

“Aaannnndd?”

“And that’s it, what is it you want me to say” Keith bristled, crossing his arms defensively. Lance mirrored him, frowning.

“Well you’re making it sound an awful lot like I’m some pet project your mom doesn’t approve of” he huffed, watching Keith tense his shoulders further. Had he hit a nerve? The little brother in him wanted to continue jabbing at it, looking for a reaction; his much more reasonable survival instinct was warning him that this thing could probably snap him in half in 2 seconds flat. Something unexpectedly warm curled up inside of him at the thought.

“They don’t know because they haven’t been around for me to tell them” Keith growled, looking none less tense, but there was a waiver to the way he spaced out the words.

“I thought wolves always lived in packs”

“I- We do! Or, we-” Lance couldn’t help but be amused that this was the first time he’d seen Keith visibly stumble over his words. A sweet sense of victory came over him that made him lean forward in his seat, smirking.

Keith leant backwards correspondingly.

“My packmate is busy.”

“Singular?”

“The other two live south of the mountain, I haven’t seen them for a long time, we consider them a pack on their own”

Lance leaned back in his seat, suddenly aware of the pressure he was putting on his ribs and dealing with the realization that this was probably dangerous territory for him. He’d already spent the entire morning crying about being alone, and now he was sitting here making himself even more miserable by continuing a conversation that only proved how much better off Keith was.

“So are they like, family?” Lance continued like an idiot.

God, he missed his family. Faces and voices he thought he’d pushed away came surging to the forefront of his mind and for a moment he thought he could see their phantoms hovering over Keith’s shoulder. He had stopped toying with the possibility that they were alive a long time ago. It helped ease his guilt for not trying to return.

Cuba had been dangerous even before the apocalypse, he told himself.

 

“Im …” Keith’s words shook him out of his thoughts, and Lance realized he was crying when he inhaled through his nose and heard a wet noise. He quickly raised his hands to dry away the tears, managing to stop a sob creeping its way up his throat.

When he looked at the wolf-boy, he was frowning.

“Sorry” Lance laughed nervously, wincing at how his voice came out like a croak. “Eyes get watery when im tired, that’s all,” he lied, focusing all his strength on stopping the tears. He managed a smile; guilt and fear and weakness fought for dominance while he tried to shove it all down, uncertain what a wolf would think of such a display.

Lance was sure he heard some sort of whiny noise that didnt come from himself, but before he could address it, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure how, or when, but Keith was sitting next to him, looking at him with what Lance thought might be mild panic.

It made him shiver. Guilty. Hadn’t he said no more touching?

When he tried to weakly push the other away, Keith only strengthened his hold on his shoulder, arm snaking further, angling him towards the soft yellow of Keith’s ( _Hunk’s_ ) hoodie. Lance relented, ignored the sting.

“Shh, it’s okay” Keith’s voice said, mingled with the faint smell of Hunk and something _wild_ , it sent spasms through him and it didn’t take long until he was crying in earnest.

Keith was warm and close and _real_.

It didn’t matter that it was the end of the world.

It didn’t matter whether or not he was just trying to find a replacement for the people he’d lost.

It didn’t matter that he was probably going to die like this.

It didn’t matter if any of this was even _real_.

 

Right now he felt _safe_ for the first time in over a year.

The feeling was so unfamiliar he hadn’t recognized it at first, but now he let it envelop him like a cocoon, shielding him from the blizzard.

 

And he cried.

 

…

 

He woke up to a strange smell.

“Ngh, cúmbila* …” Lance mumbled sleepily, “Your breaathh.”

For a moment he was blissfully aware that everything had been a dream. A nightmare that the world had ended, that he was stuck in a hell of snow and ice, gone the moment he came to. Through his eyelids he could sense daylight and he was thankful that, for once, Pidge had allowed them to sleep in. Sweet, wonderful Pidge.

He could feel Hunk’s breath on his neck, warm and soft, smelling like he’d indulged in some strange new food the day before and forgotten to brush his teeth. Lance snuggled closer, nuzzling his nose against black hair and enjoying the feeling of strong arms around his waist.

He tried to turn a little further, wanting to reach optimal comfort by twisting his hips to throw a leg over Hunk’s.

 

He let out a sharp cry of pain that jolted Hunk awake. Fuck. Something was wrong.

“You shouldn’t be moving like that, idiot.”  

Lance briefly registered that the voice was _wrong_ as he heaved for breath from the overwhelming pain that overtook him. His entire side felt like it was on fire.

“Fuck” he managed to curse, rolling over on his bedroll and cramping weakly in on himself. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Strong hands smoothed him over, pushed him back against the pile of skins stacked on his bedroll, held down his legs. He whimpered.

“Stop, Hunk - It hurts!” he cried out, trying to push his friend off him, but the other continued holding him down. Had Hunk gotten … smaller? His hands roamed up one of the arms pushing on his shoulder and it was … He could have imagined it, but had Hunk always been that hairy?

When he opened his eyes it was a stranger watching him. He drew back, eyes wide, chest still heaving.

 _Where’s Hunk_ , _Pidge?_

Did they leave Lance behind?

He reached for the knife he kept stashed under the bedroll, but found it missing. He winced again as he twisted his spine too far. What was going on?

The person had withdrawn his hands and was kneeling next to him, watching him with a frown. It took Lance a moment to realize he was wearing Hunk’s hoodie.

After that, it was only a matter of seconds before the memories came rushing back and it left Lance reeling. He’d had it all back. Just for a moment, he’d been back in the ski-resort, sleeping in, enjoying the vacation he’d been planning for years.

“You shouldn’t move so much” Keith mumbled, rubbing one eye free of sleep.

Lance looked at him and knew he couldn’t possibly understand the feeling of loss clinging to his chest. He-

“Who’s Hunk?”

Lance blinked, eyes roaming Keith’s face, then he grimaced.

“Hunk is-” it hurt. _Oh god he’s dead_. “Hunk was a very close friend.” he managed to mutter.

 

Keith didn’t leave that day like he usually did.

He restocked the firewood, prepared lunch and dinner for Lance and kept asking small innocent questions about everything and nothing. Lance watched him from his bedroll as Keith spent hours clearing out the snowbank from the blizzard and even going so far as to sculpt the snow to stop wind from rushing through the entrance. His black fur glistened from melted ice, tongue hanging out from the exercise and for a moment Lance thought he looked like nothing more than a big black dog. He smirked and chewed his jerky.

 

It was easier to stop himself from thinking about everything that had happened when Keith was there. The loneliness didn’t ring quite as clear and there were no phantom voices haunting his ears, nothing to make him turn and jerk every other second because _maybe_ , maybe there was a chance Pidge was just hiding behind that outcropping of rock.

 

He looked over his shoulder.

_Just making sure._

He was met with nothing but the usual darkness of the cave, but couldn’t help the pang of dissapointment that ran through him.

He wasn’t surprised when he felt Keith’s hand on his shoulder without having heard the other draw close, he’d quickly figured out that wolf-boy over there could be quiet as a mouse if he so wished. He turned, a sad smile playing at his lips and nodded.

Keith helped him don a few extra layers and steadied him as he rose from his bedroll and waddled outside.

 

At least the cold dampened the smell of the impromptu lavatory he’d built a long time ago. Briefly he wondered if Keith had been emptying it and he felt guilt rake its claws through him, but that wasn’t something he could worry about now. If he brought it up, perhaps he’d stop doing it, perhaps it would come off as ungrateful.

_If he leaves me, I’ll die._

 

Keith bathed him again and helped him put on new clothes. He felt soft and warm as he scarfed down some pork and beans, straight out of the can, fingers curling around the heated iron. The fireplace sent out a hiss as sap rushed out of an orifice in the latest log added.

 

“Hey” he heard a voice saying.

It took him a moment to realize it was Keith’s, prompting him to turn, spoon in his mouth, can almost empty. Keith was sitting with both hands submerged in warm water and wet, blue fabric, frowning, lips pressed into a thin line. Lance raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Did- Did I do something?” Keith asked.

“No?”

“Are you okay?”

Lance honestly didn’t know, so he shrugged and returned to his dinner.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

\-----

 

He’d fucked up.

Surely, something he’d done had been wrong and now Lance’s injury was going to get worse. He’d get a fever, dysentery, start throwing up. He wasn’t smiling, his answers were clipped and he looked so _tired_.

Had he not been sleeping properly? But he’d slept a full ten hours that night …

Keith sat with his hands in the water for so long they were wrinkly when he pulled them out to lay the clothes out on the cleaner part of the cave floor near the fire.

It had something to do with the crying, Keith was sure, Lance hadn’t even cried when he’d been bleeding out in the snow!

To make matters worse, he himself felt like he was starting to get sick. He felt tingly and tired and he’d had a headache for days now. He’d used up all of Shiro’s tricks to get rid of it, but there it was, persistent. Just like Lance’s lack of recovery.

Topping it all off was the stupid jolts of pain that ran through him everytime he touched Lance. Which he had to, a lot. At first it had been like holding your hand too close to a flame, just a bit too warm, stinging. Now it felt like his skin was melting, like he was touching the firewood directly, flames licking up his skin and devouring him, but what could he do?

He had to touch the human to help him move around, had to wash him to keep him from getting sick again.

 _Didn’t need to spend the night snuggled up against him, though_ , a voice snaked its way into Keith’s thoughts.

Did Shiro feel this way when he healed things too?

 

He growled without realizing it, earning him a cautious glance from Lance. He waved a hand at him to show it wasn’t directed at him, _well, not entirely,_ and started undressing.

He still wasn’t too keen on wearing the strange garments, but it was far better than wearing something elses’ fur. He vaguely remembered Lance telling him it was made from plants, something Keith found hard to imagine. It was almost as soft as fur, and it smelled foreign, _spicy_. Sort of like Lance.

On top of the overwhelming scent of human that permeated everything in the cave, that was.

He wondered if he had started smelling like human too.

 

It felt wonderful rolling around in the snow after spending so long in the heat of the cave, and Keith took his time to properly rub out all the dirt that had accumulated from wearing those weird clothing-things.

His stomach ached. Somehow, he was still hungry, even after downing another deer just two days prior and with the entire carcass to himself, he’d thought it would be at least a while until he would need to hunt again.

Begrudgingly he left the pilowy whiteness of the snowbank.

He knew where the herds were, could smell them everywhere he went on the mountain. It took him barely any time at all to track down a small group. They had wandered to one of the ponds, pounding the ice with their hooves to get to the fresh water underneath.

Keith stopped running once he had them in sight. He waited, observed. He could hear their hooves clacking against the solid water clearly.

It would be difficult bringing down such large prey alone, in a forest or on slippery ice. His growling stomach pushed him forward, made him unwittingly take a step towards the pond, his eyes trained on the group of animals, spotting weaknesses, openings … The doe on the left? No, too big. A young buck was moving away from the group. Keith watched it intently, another step forward-

 

He let out a yelp as his paw fell through the snow and the rest of him tumbled after.

_Thud._

Darkness. His eyes tried to adjust but something was keeping them from seeing clearly-

He landed on something hard, and jagged. The searing pain accompanied the smell of blood and he knew there was something wrong with his leg. Above him, he could hear hooves bolting away.

 

Dazed, he tried to discern where he’d ended up and was met with a soft blue glow, casting gentle shadows of his shape on all sides. There was an odd echo as he shuffled to his paws, careful not to put any weight on his left hind leg. He turned to inspect the damage but found it difficult in the odd light. He whined, then immediately regretted it, the sound waves came crashing back at him and made him shudder, it was overwhelmingly loud.

He took a step forward, eyes trained on the ground looking for safe footing. The ice caves. How could he have forgotten? If it hadn’t been for-

As if on cue, a spasm of hunger tore through him again. He growled, then whimpered as the sound was thrown back at him, then finally shut up. His steps were already loud enough as it was, claws clacking against cold ice. At least he wasn’t sliding all over the place.

He looked up, perhaps he could jump? He’d have to wait for his leg to heal … The pale sliver of sunlight that hit him seemed so far away, the spot of white against the black of the cave was out of reach. He shook his head, a very human motion that felt strange in wolf-form, and walked further into the tunnel he’d landed in. If he just kept walking, he’d get out in no time. Surely.

 

Hours passed.

The glowing blue spots on the walls grinned back at him devilishly, the weird light licking up and down his body. Limping was tiresome, and it hurt. Keith was shaking before he realized it and he slumped over. The tunnels all looked the same.

He felt like he was going deaf from the constant echo. Looking back from where he had come, he saw the small red paw prints. They were black against the ice. He shuddered and wondered why he hadn’t thought to lick the wound, why he’d let himself bleed for so long.

How long had it been?

He had a vague idea that it would be nighttime outside.

He bent down to lick at his leg, whimpering at the pain.

Something inside of him felt like it was ticking out of sync of the rest of him, like his heartbeat was a second too late, his breathing just slightly hitched. He kept tasting blood. The wound wouldn’t close.

 

When he got to his feet again he was dizzy.

He had to keep walking. Lance was waiting for him to come back. Shiro would be back soon. He needed to eat.

 

Another whimper that echoed through the seemingly endless twilight of the tunnels.

 

\---------

 

It had been two days, and no trace of Keith.

Lance was beside himself; thoughts flickering in and out of focus as he tried clinging to the reasonable voice in his head telling him that wolves didn’t keep schedules like that, that Keith had no obligation to check in every single day.

His ribs ached from him moving too much on his own, the trips to the lavatory were absolute hell and he was not looking forward to when he’d need to get more snow for drinking water. He’d managed to use one of his hunting rifles as a makeshift crutch, but it wasn’t easy to stabilize between bursts of seeing stars from the pain.

 

Was it his imagination, or did the wolf howls get closer with each passing night? He shuddered and reached for another bundle of sticks to add to the fireplace.

A frown overtook his features as his hand struck hard rock. He padded a little to the left, then to the right, searching. It felt like acid being poured into his veins. He turned and sure enough, no more firewood.

 

The fire crackled indignantly and he found himself mumbling, “yeah yeah, I’ll get you something to eat.” But he just sighed and folded in on himself. Had his ribs gotten better or had he simply gotten so used to the pain that it didn’t faze him? He quickly found that he didn’t care as he shivered, trying to work up the nerve to venture out, considering just putting on a couple more layers and letting the fire die.

It was tempting.

 

In the end, he groaned, reaching for his hunting rifle and started the arduous process of dressing. Three layers later and he was wobbling outside, limbs stiff from disuse and face set in a scowl.

Something was rolling around in his guts. A thought he’d pushed back until now.

 

He reached down to pick up the first piece of wood he came across, wincing at the way his ribs bunched up, nearly stumbling and losing hold of the rifle.

He had cried like a child. He’d cried and sucked his thumb and curled up and lost his cool and now Keith had decided he wasn’t worth saving. Keith had abandoned him.

He hadn’t gotten better quickly enough. He’d killed himself the moment he set his sights on that bear.

He felt a sob work its way up his throat as his inner voice spelled it out.

_You’re weak._

_You’re not worth saving._

 

Another stick. Black against the snow.

He didn’t care that he was crying again. The damage had been done, and there was no one else for miles and miles and miles. No one to witness his inevitable demise. No one to put a marker on his grave.

His mind flickered to an image of two sticks bound crudely together in the form of a cross. A pair of glasses resting peacefully in the snow.

He cried again. He cried and he yelled obscenities into the white of this new world. A blank canvas. A cold grave.

 

He didn’t notice when it started snowing, didn’t care.

His tears had turned to ice against his skin and he could barely feel his hands. He kept fumbling with the bundle of firewood in his arms, by some miracle managing not to drop it as he bent down and picked up another stick. Next to it lay a crow’s feather.

He picked that up as well and turned it in his gloved hand.

When it was ripped away from him by a sudden gust of wind, he followed it with his eyes.

 

He was numb and cold, and in that moment the world around him didn’t exist.

A peaceful moment. A ringing silence. The pain in his ribs seemed to disappear as he closed his eyes, breathed in deeply.

It was okay if Keith didn’t come back.

 

It was- A sob threatened to pull him out of his solace.

He opened his eyes.

 

Then the world came crashing in on him.

 

Everywhere around him there was nothing but dark, rushing, terrible whiteness. Projectiles pelted at his face, burning him up. Winds pushed him around like he was a ragdoll. He fought to stay on his legs.

The blizzard roared in his ears, as terrible as the snicker of the voice from within;

_Ha ha! Look at you now!_

 

No no no no no.

He looked back from where he had come but his tracks had long since been swept away. He looked forward and saw nothing but the hungry void of twirling particles. He realized then that he had no idea where he was. He walked forwards, clutching his firewood, his rifle, panicked.

How could he have let a blizzard surprise him?

Where was the stupid cave?

The rifle bud struck something hard, got stuck. He lost his grip on it.

He slipped and fell flat on his back, crying out in pain as he tumbled down the crest of a snowclad hill, invisible until he laid face-down in it.

 

For a single, horrible moment, he toyed with the thought of not getting up.

 

Survival-instinct kicked in and he pushed himself to his knees. At least the cold made him numb to the pain shooting through his ribs.

He couldn’t taste, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. The blizzard took every sense from him and left him tumbling through its gaping maw. He fell again, got back up.

He cried out.

 

“KEEEIIIITTHH”

The blizzard swallowed up his words.

 

“Please” he whimpered.

 

His feet struggled to move him through the snow. He felt weakness warring with his waning stubborness as he continued, step after step. Crunch crunch.

He was certain he would have been crying if his tear ducts hadn’t frozen over. He adjusted his clothing, trying to go through a mental checklist of what to remember when stuck in a blizzard.

It was a welcome respite of logic in the midst of chaos, but it quickly fell to pieces as he found himself unable to execute any of the steps on the list.

 

He couldn’t remember how long he’d been walking. He couldn’t feel anything.

Couldn’t track the sun through the thick snow.

He felt like he weighed ten tonnes, ice and snow clinging to him and weighing him down. His limbs felt like they were made of lead.

 

When he saw the silhouette of a wolf approaching him through the fog of snow, he thought it was a hallucination.

He walked towards it, reached out but couldn’t feel whether or not his arm responded to his brain’s request. He didn’t care if it was real.

Perhaps his brain could imagine some warmth in his final moments, cradled against black fur.

 

“KEITH” he howled over the blizzard, desperate and uncertain. He couldn’t hear his own voice, wasn’t sure if he had only thought it or if he had managed the sound.

The wolf-shape approached, materialized properly now that it was closer and Lance’s heart sunk.

Of course it wasn’t Keith.

Black, pearly eyes hovered in white fur that almost made the wolf’s head disappear in the midst of twirling blankness of the snow. It lowered its head, ready to pounce, ready to tear into Lance’s soft skin, fangs bared. The black fur covering the rest of it’s body made it look misshapen, wrong, half baked. God, it was big.

At least being eaten would be quicker than freezing to death, Lance argued in his head as he fell to his knees in the snow.

 

All will to fight left him in a sigh.

 

He closed his eyes, waited for the inevitable.

 

____________________________________

ART! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title: Lance is sad
> 
> *cúmbila means “pal” or “buddy” according to this list I found https://www.speakinglatino.com/spanish-slang-for-friend/
> 
> Fun fact: all the chapter titles are names of The Long Dark soundtracks!  
> Theyre all super awesome ambience, I use them a lot for writing.


	4. You See Things Others Would Miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know that thing in Ouran High School host club in the first episode with the lights that turn on as each member realizes something?
> 
> Well one light just turned on-

Light in the distance.

Conflicting voices rang through Lance’s head, threatening to split him right down the middle. There was the pleading voice of Pidge, but her words were painted red along with her memory as his mind flickered to black gums and white fangs, stretched out over his neck.

Different hands on him. Warmth. A voice he hadn’t heard in half an age; older, wiser.

_Dad?_

Sweet, sweet warmth. Sweet, searing, burning warmth.

He couldn’t open his eyes, his throat was dry.

 

The voices didn’t sound as real anymore.

 

\--------

 

Keith whimpered as Shiro licked his leg. It was the first time in a while it had been necessary for the older wolf to heal him, usually his own power had been more than enough to heal things like this. Small things, a cut from a shard of ice, a sprain. He shivered as the other looked at him with pensive eyes.

“I can’t believe you did this to yourself” Shiro finally huffed. His telepathic voice rang heavy with guilt and worry, he sounded like a tired parent. Keith hung his head, looking away.

“I didn’t realize there were still holes down to the ice caves-” He started but Shiro cut him off with a nudge to his now healed leg.

“You know that’s not what I meant. It’s the human, isn’t it?” When Keith didn’t answer, Shiro continued. “You’ve been healing it.”

“So what if I have?”

“You haven’t been trained! You don’t know how! You’re killing yourself!” Shiro cried, growling deep in his throat, but there was no bite to his words. His emotions were a garbled mess and Keith felt them echo within himself. Guilt, worry, fear, something left unsaid.

He met Shiro’s gaze softly.

“I couldn’t just leave him.”

“I know.”

Shiro understood. Clear as day. Many animals who had been hurt, could’ve made easy meals. They hadn’t asked to be healed, Shiro hadn’t waited for permission; Keith knew Shiro would’ve done the same had he been in his situation.

But it was true, Shiro was much more skilled. Shiro would have healed Lance’s ribs by now.

 

Right?

 

“I brought him to our den.” Shiro said, already breaking into a run. Above them, the stars were following their flight through the naked trees.

 

\---------------------------

 

Click click clack click.

 

Why couldn’t he open his eyes? He could hear something approaching, but he couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t respond. He tried to whimper, but nothing came out, not even a wheezing croak. His lips were sealed, was he still breathing?

He couldn’t tell.

 

A spot of cold against the warmth, the contrast was jarring and if he’d had control of his limbs he would’ve jerked away. As it was, he had to endure it as it touched his cheek, ran down his jaw to sniff at his throat. It tickled.

 

What was the last thing he remembered? Where was he? He felt a waft of air brush over him, as if something had turned swiftly, it felt nice.

He felt very warm.

 

\--------

 

Keith whimpered.

Shiro tried again, dumbfounded where he was standing, licking at the human’s frostbitten face. It didn’t work. Why didn’t it work?

No no no no.

Shiro looked like he was being drained right in front of Keith and it took everything in him not to rush forward and pull him away from the motionless body of Lance.

“I can’t heal him”

Shiro’s voice sounded broken, strangled with an emotion Keith couldn’t decipher. Another whine. He didn’t know what to say.

One look at the yellow, waxy areas that marred the man’s face was enough for him to shiver with guilt. He paced restlessly.

“I don’t understand” Keith transmitted, making all sorts of worried noises he didn’t realize himself capable of. Shiro tried again, and his body sunk in on itself. Every attempt to heal Lance seemed to just suck the power out of him, as though the human was a vacuum with wounds greater than both of their healing gifts combined.

Keith already knew it, he didn’t want to admit it, but when Shiro said it out loud, he felt his heart sink.

“I don’t know what to do.”

 

\-------

 

There it was again.

Something achingly cold raking over his hands. He wanted to pull away, to go back to his cocoon of warmth, wanted to curl up and sleep.

Sleep like he’d never slept before.

He was so _tired_.

 

Somehow, he couldn’t remember when he had actually slept last. Time was non-existent in his half-conscious state; there was no daylight to tell how many hours passed.

There was only the click clack of claws on the cave floor.

Had Keith come back for him?

Had Keith killed him?

Was he just waiting to be eaten? Or was he already a corpse in his den?

 

No … he’d died in a blizzard, right?

Memories of twirling white, dancing with him, turning him in circles until he couldn’t tell where he’d come from and where he should go, pushing him to his knees. It sang in his ears, that memory, a stinging lullaby.

Strong arms picking him up. Ribs hurting with every step.

 

Too _warm._

 

Had that been before or after he met Keith?

 

\------

 

“We have to wait it out. Keep it warm, see if it wakes up on its own.” Shiro had said. “Maybe it knows better how to help itself.”

Keith had wasted no time in obeying. The fire looked odd in their den, wild and messy, with no flat stones to rein it in, it kept straying too close to the lump in the blankets.

Keith used a stick to contain it, never leaving Lance’s side.

He didn’t dare.

 

Shiro brought food back to him. Like a mate rearing cubs, Keith thought, feeling oddly babied, but was nevertheless grateful for the full stomach. Shiro’s eyes on him were strange, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get himself to; there was always a tang of copper to his voice when he spoke, leaving Keith to wonder.

He had never shown any sort of disapproval of Keith’s attachment to the human - even back when he had only observed from a distance Shiro had even encouraged him to seek him out. He didn't show any clear disapproval now, either.

So what was it?

It irked him. Like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Had it been because of what was happening south of the mountain? The realization that he hadn’t asked came with a rush of embarrassment and he could barely contain his tail from wagging when he sauntered up to the larger wolf.

 

“How is Allura and Coran?” He asked tentatively, trying to mask his inner coil of emotions with a flare of nonchalance. He nuzzled Shiro’s ear.

Shiro let out a noise and leaned into the touch, enjoying the grooming.

 

“They … The humans have dwindled in number. We aren’t sure why, but its as if they’ve started killing _each other_.”

Keith shivered but didnt stop licking over the other’s fur, looking for parasites. A variety of thoughts flickered through him. Lance killing other humans. Himself Killing Shiro.

Then, comically, he imagined deer killing other deer and his mind trailed off trying to figure out how they would go about doing so. He was brought back by Shiro’s voice in his head.

“What’s more, they’ve started hunting a lot more than they have in previous years. Even Allura has started trying to stop them. She …” A pang of guilt ran through them both, originating from Shiro but carrying through his voice to make Keith shiver as well. Guilt and worry and sorrow and _fear_? Keith let out a soft noise to make him continue.

“She’s not acting like herself. It’s like all these years of worrying that she made the wrong decision has been chipping away at something. A wall, a dam holding back -” He stopped again, huffed while he found the words. Keith stopped grooming and sat down next to him, watching him carefully.

“A beast.”

They both shivered as Shiro’s mind transmitted an odd combination of images and feelings. The scent of blood and ice, Allura’s white fur stained red, hatred, confusion, Coran growling, fear. An odd click followed by a quick, loud _bang_. Keith winced as though the pain in his shoulder was real and he understood. Allura’s dark fingers curling around a hunting rifle.

 

“The humans they’re… Desperate. I can tell from their eyes. They’re hungry and they’re afraid, they’re uncontrollable.”

“You met with them?” Keith bristled, unable to keep the bite out of his voice.

“Allura is in contact with a small group. The ones who have lived on Great Bear longer” - The ones who remember the stories, who know what we are, Keith’s mind supplied.

“They - we - were attacked. Allura demanded that I go back here -” he cut off, and suddenly the mental connection snapped shut. His eyes strayed to Lance, then back to Keith.

Keith narrowed his eyes in confusion.

 

\------

 

Lance was bored.

Everything was the same. Nothing changed. He felt like his emotions had all fuzzed out, leaving him empty and uncaring, unable to feel the pain. Numb.

With a vast nothingness all around him, a black void, he instead opted for travelling inwards. He saw himself in his mind's’ eye like a tiny bubble of light, travelling down his broken body, whooshing over bones and skin and cuts and scrapes. He seemed so huge, he couldn’t see the whole picture. He managed to find his ribs, hovering over them, somehow seeing through the skin to where a bone was hanging at an odd angle, just slightly off compared to the others. It was attached though, a film of bone covering it, keeping it in place as he saw a billion other little lights swarming around it. When he drew closer, they scattered.

A pang of pain, far away. He reached out to touch the bone but found that he couldn’t get through the skin.He pushed, but to no avail.

When he flew away, he registered the lights returning, then dimming, absorbed in their work.

 

He flew upwards, inspected his face, wincing at the odd lifeless spots. His nose at least wasn’t as bad as his cheeks, which were covered in a layer of blisters and dead skin. There were no little lights here.

Again, he reached out, metaphorical fingers brushing over dead tissue with the wish to rip it off. To make it better.The stubble on his chin itched and cut him, he felt like he was being drained.

He didn’t realize he was falling until he crashed unto his own face. Icy flames licked him. A blob of light, writhing in pain. He tried to scream but he couldn’t even as hot and cold warred to take over his body.

 

The pain was calling him, it was shouting at him, screaming that he cannot keep this up, that he must wake up. The fire was jarring in the midst of his numbness.

He felt his will to fight back returning.

 

\--------

 

Both wolves sat long periods of time in silence, just watching Lance breathing slowly.

Keith’s heart clenched everytime Lance moved even the slightest bit.

_Please wake up._

_Please wake up._

_Please wake up._

He walked over to Lance’s sleeping form and prodded him with his snout as he’d done so many times before.

_Please_.

 

“I’m going to go” he heard Shiro from behind him. Was he leaving out of respect?

Keith instinctively knew where he was going; The mountain summit. He had never figured out why, but it seemed that in times of distress thats where he preferred to spend his time. He made a soft sound to let Shiro know it was okay and in his mind he transmitted his gratitude, not turning to look at Shiro’s retreating form as he transformed and sank to his knees next to Lance.

 

It was the first time he was in human-form since he’d fallen into the ice caves.

He hadn’t even realized how natural it had felt to spend time in this form until now when he had gotten unused to it again. His fingers felt stiff and his back was rigid, numb.

Carefully, he reached out and stroked a hand over Lance’s hair. Little sparks flew through his fingertips which made him wince, but he didn’t remove his hand. Fuck, it hurt.

His arm felt like it was vibrating.

He didn’t care, felt the need to touch overwhelm his discomfort from the pain. Because that was it, wasn’t it? A strange need to touch, to _feel_ , to be close.

The realization made him blink and he felt guilty when the thought that he was thankful Lance wasn’t awake to see what must have been an awful expression hit him. His hand travelled downwards, thumb brushing over dark eyebrows and over his marred cheek. The skin had started healing, but it would never look the same.

 

Why was he feeling like this? Lance was just a wounded animal on the mountain. Keith’s chance to prove he was-

A shock of pain rippled through him hard enough for him to almost claw at Lance’s face. He gasped but managed to move his hand away before his fingers started cramping painfully. Why-

Another shot of fire. But he wasn’t even touching him!

Keith whined and clutched his palm, trying to control his breathing through another three jabs of pain.

He bit his lip, determined. He could taste blood, even as he willed his body to stop cramping and reached out for Lance again. His body had never commanded him before, and it wouldn’t now, pain be damned. His fingers brushed over Lance’s exposed neck, curled around the hem of the blue sweater he’d been wearing under all the layers Keith had removed.

His gaze ghosted softly over Lance’s features. The human’s expression was relaxed, sleeping, shadows and orange light flickered over him and gave the impression he was moving when he wasn’t.

He was … beautiful.

Sunken cheeks, scars and stubble too. The bags under his eyes and the sheen of sweat over his forehead dug into Keith’s heart and retrieved a feeling wholly unknown to him.

Fondness?

But he was just something Keith had to take care of to prove-

His breath hitched in his throat as his fingers received another sharp jab of pain.

He’d noticed the pattern by now.

 

Slowly, anxiously, he let selfish thoughts enter his mind.

They enveloped him like a blizzard and he found himself reeling from the power of those simple images, pushing him around, toying with him even as he sat stationary next to Lance’s nest.

His heart was beating too fast. His eyes were forced to close and what he saw took his breath away.

 

At first it was just sensations. Cold fingers curling around his own, a weight leaning on him but not because of an injury. Something tickled by his ear. His inner eyes opened even as his material ones stayed closed and there he was, alive, smiling. He’d never seen him smile like that before.

Lance’s eyes twinkled along with the aurora, so close Keith could see the tissue making up the retina, so close their noses brushed together and in this trance-like state he could have sworn it was real.

A strange hunger overcame him. So very unlike the wish to eat, but with the same intensity, governed by pure instinct. Finally he dared to move, needed to, _wanted_ -

 

The second his lips met Lance’s the illusion broke, and he found himself sitting with his hands stretched out in the air as if clutching a phantom, cheeks flushed red. His heartbeat was overwhelmingly loud in his ears and it felt like it was beating in two places at once, slightly out of sync.  

He looked down at Lance with wide eyes.

 

_What the fuck?_

 

\----

  


Shiro’s eyes followed the neat line of his pawprints in the snow back between the trees. He knew the route well, had climbed the mountain so many times he could do it during blizzards, fog or in the dead of night. Up here, the cold stung his eyes and he shivered involuntarily. Even the guardians of the mountain couldn’t survive long on the summit, which was why his visits were quick, but many.

He had to resort to his human form once he got to the climbing rope, hauling himself up quickly with the efficiency of someone who had done it hundreds of times before. His shoulder hurt from where he knew there was still a bullet embedded in his flesh, but he shrugged it off. He had already healed the skin over it, he’d have to chew it open to get it out now, something he wasn’t too keen on doing, or asking Keith to do.

Guilt flashed through him again, but he bit it down.

 

He stepped over the climbing rope when he reached top, paws hitting the ground soon after and he trotted towards the dark remnants of a plane. Bits of metal stuck out of the ground, engines half buried in snow, crates and seats thrown haphazardly to all sides.

There was an indent in the snow where Shiro’s route always took him, where the top-layer had continually been stepped on. It led neatly around the various scrap until finally he reached the northern part of the wreckage where the summit ended in a sheer drop so high Shiro wasn’t sure what would be at the bottom.

 

Above him, the new moon grinned at him even as Shiro raised his head in a howl. It felt good to penetrate the silence, to overpower the whistling winds. His own little tradition, a show of respect.

In front of him lay a body.

It had been half-buried in snow since last he had come to the summit, both hands folded over the stomach as the empty stare of lifeless eyes scoured the heavens.

Shiro walked forward and quickly pushed off the worst of the snow, nuzzling the dead man’s cheek as though he was still alive, unable to keep a soft noise from pouring out of his throat.

It stung where he touched him, a pain he had never figured out.

A dog tag hung from his collar, reflecting the moon.

 

_Adam Wyke._

_Arctic divisions pilot, sq.146_

_Blood Type: A+_

_26.07.2087_

 

On the back Shiro knew there was a series of scratches, bunched together in fives.

Forty-seven lines in total - The last four much more inconsistent than the rest.

 

\------

  


Keith’s lips pressed into a thin line. He braced himself, reached out with a single finger, hovering close to Lance’s cheek. He let it fall, skin making contact with Lance. He waited.

No pain.

He squinted, tried again in a different spot. No pain.

He felt himself blushing at the touch, at the images swirling in his head. The dark thoughts along with the lighter ones that sent him into a haze in which he thought he could fly.

But there was always that nagging weight bringing him back down when he realized just how pale Lance’s skin was, how thin he had become. It had already been four days.

Keith swallowed thickly.

 

It was easier to bathe him and make him drink, now that he didn’t have to hold back from twitching in pain. He held the pot of boiled snow to his lips and was happy to see Lance’s throat clenching as he swallowed, a satisfaction that went beyond what he’d felt when he thought he was doing this merely because his duties bade him.

It was … exhilarating. A little scary.

The thought of losing him carried that much more weight, now that he’d realized that-

_That what?_

He wasn’t sure. Hadn’t thought that far before.

 

He was ripped from his thoughts as he heard the clicks of claws on the cave floor and turned to see Shiro returning, a rabbit in his jaws, blood dripping down his muzzle. The larger wolf’s eyes were squinting slightly, looking between the two men.

Keith dropped Lance as if burnt, his body hitting the nest with a soft _thump_.

 

“Don’t do that” Shiro reprimanded and dropped the dead rabbit next to the bones of a deer. Keith immediately returned to wolf-form and pounced on the animal, sheepishly avoiding Shiro’s gaze as he tore into the lean meat.

Glad that wolves couldn’t blush, stomach rumbling happily, tail sweeping over small pebbles and making them rattle along the floor.

Behind him, he could hear Shiro moving closer to Lance and he had to rein in the sudden urge to step in front and stop him. Protectiveness? He knew it was stupid, but part of him didn’t want Shiro touching Lance. He turned, licking his snout, watching Shiro sniff at Lance’s exposed face.

Shiro’s eyes snapped to Keith and he felt a guilty pang shoot through him, until suddenly he was overwhelmed by the transmission from the older wolf. Shiro looked dumbstruck. A weird expression on a wolf.

“What did you do?” Shiro’s voice wasn’t accusatory, nor was it demanding. Instead it acted like a breeze that made Keith’s heart flutter even as he froze where he stood.

“What do you mean?” He asked, barely able to manage the thought. He was faintly aware that he had also let Shiro know exactly how he had been feeling the entire day and Shiro grimaced, but Keith didnt care.

“His face- Did you really not see?”

Keith was just about to respond when a low groan filled the silence. Both of their faces snapped to Lance.

Slowly, the human’s eyes opened.

 

In a breathless moment, he saw them blink groggily. Then they settled on Keith.

 

The wolf all but flung himself at Lance’s now gently moving form, arms already curling around his torso before he even realized he had transformed back.

He closed his eyes, cheek pressed to Lance’s forehead, holding him close to his chest. He heard a weak whimper, then a croak. He shuddered.

A strange energy rippled through him, like a buzzing sensation everywhere they touched, and for a moment Keith was certain the pain would return. But it didn’t.

His mind was alight with the thought of

_Lance is alive_

_Lance is alive_

_Lance is alive_

 

Faintly, he heard Lance’s whisper.

“Water”

 

He obliged, laughter bubbling out of him in relief. Lance seemed content to let Keith feed him, drinking greedily until finally he coughed and raised a hand to make Keith stop.

It took a while before his breathing was back to normal.

The human looked at him, eyes filled with tears that soon bubbled over and crept down his cheeks.

“You’re okay, you’re safe.” Keith said in an attempt to soothe him, but Lance shook his head and reached up to wipe at Keith’s jaw. It almost felt like he was trying to push him away.

“Dont eat me” Lance said weakly, and that was when Keith realized Lance’s hand had come away bloody. _The rabbit._

He chuckled again and shook his head, unable to keep his relief at bay.

“It’s not your blood, idiot. I wouldn’t eat you” and his voice was so soft he himself was surprised.

 

It took him a moment to realize Shiro had left when Lance had woken up.

 

\------

Portraits!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! D:
> 
> So I was actually considering doing some magic mumbo-jumbo to bring Lance out of his coma (with the little lights and stuff) but decided to keep it to being a dream and instead had him wake up of his own volition because although I know I could do a The Long Dark version of Quintessence manipulation (which is already sorta at play with the wolves and their ability to heal and (spoiler alert) will definitely be a thing once Allura appears, it just felt odd right at this point. 
> 
> Also, Keith has started picking up on some of Lance’s words. In the beginning he had no idea what ‘fuck’ or ‘god’ meant, but he understands they’re exclamations and is using them the same way Lance does, which I personally think is adorable.
> 
> Might add some more art later :D


	5. Angry Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw/tw:  
> Self-harm, Suicide, Blood, Hallucinations

It came as a shock when Keith returned to his and Shiro’s den to find the human standing upright, leaning against the cave opening. He almost dropped the crate he was holding in his mouth as he abruptly came to a stop in the snow.

It was a bright, sunny day and there was no mistaking it. Lance was standing, unaided by anything but his own legs. The grin he sent Keith made something warm curl up inside him and sent him into motion once again, this time at a trot.

“You’re standing!” Keith beamed, dropping the crate at Lance’s feet and smelling him intently, inspecting him to see if he was truly doing as well as he seemed.

No smell of blood, no pain when his nose touched his hand, no-

His heart skipped a beat when Lance’s fingers moved to his ear and scratched the fur there, nails raking pleasantly over skin and making him lean into the touch. Lance’s fingers were cold.

“Yep” Lance responded, smiling. Keith fought the instinct to reciprocate the grooming, knowing that the fur covering Lance was not his own and did not require the same type of maintenance, and forced himself to withdraw before the hunger in the back of his mind clawed its way to the forefront. Lance didn’t seem fazed, he picked up the crate with ease and followed Keith into the den.

“How?” Keith asked, coming to a stop next to the dead fireplace.

“No clue, ever since I woke up I’ve felt unstoppable.” Lance laughed as he opened the container and pulled out an orange can, opening it with a practiced motion.

“God, I’m starving!” he exclaimed as he all but gulped down the contents as they were. Keith watched him with great interest - he’d never seen Lance eat anything out of the cans without first heating it up. When he sniffed the air, he wrinkled his nose. A strange, sweet smell. Something exotic.

Lance caught hold of his gaze making Keith breathe in sharply.

_Dammit, those eyes were electric._

He held out the can with a grin, revealing some sort of orange lumps suspended in syrup, wiggling it and making the contents slosh around.

“Wanna try some?”

He laughed when Keith bared his fangs and moved his head away in disgust.

“More for me!” and then the can was empty.

 

Lance managed to work his way through another orange can and then a green one with a strange spotted animal on the front. Keith had laid down nearby to watch him.

He didn’t have the heart to tell Lance that he had accidentally knocked down the ‘shelves’ in his hurry to gather all the cans he could fit within the container and get back, certain Lance would mourn the loss of his contraption.

He had been excited. Lance had recovered so quickly, it was a miracle. He had awakened that very morning and now he was on his feet!

Keith was sure it had something to do with the absence of the touching-pains, but couldn’t tell why or how; surely Keith couldn’t have done this - this was even more advanced healing than Shiro was able to do after all. Keith yawned, feeling a little drowsy after the long vigil spent at Lance’s side. Shiro still hadn’t come back.

 

“So this is your den?”

Keith didn’t move from where he laid with his head nestled in his paws, watching the human intently.

“Yes.”

“Its uh, nice?”

“Thank you”

Lance’s eyes scanned the barren walls, the dark ridges, the skeleton in the corner, much like Keith had once done to Lance’s cave. The human let out some sort of whistle and drained the last of the liquid from the green can. His eyes lingered on the remains of the deer.

“Now that I think about it, I dont think I’ve ever seen you eat” Lance mumbled, lips nibbling the sharp ridges of the metal in his hand. Keith couldn’t seem to look away from the soft pink flesh.

 

A beat of silence. Lance’s lips pressed together. The Human’s eyes looked foggy, and his eyebrows drew downwards - deep in thought?

Keith wanted to ask, to reach out, offer a touch, help, but something in him told him to stay put. His tail wagged without his permission.

“I-”

The moment Lance’s eyes fell on Keith again, he visibly relaxed, letting out a shuddering laugh and didn’t finish his sentence.

 

He moved to inspect his clothes for tears and sent Keith on several trips to his den to fetch things. Before they knew it, it was dark outside. Around Lance laid another crate of food, a sewing kit, a knife, dried intestines and bits of cured skin.

His long, slender fingers worked in a practiced manner as he continuously poked the needle into the sole of one of his boots, drawing a bit of clunky, makeshift thread through it. The boot looked like it was more patchings than footwear at this point, skin worn through to the fur in many places. Most of his clothes looked that way. As worn as the rest of him.

But there was something alive about him now that Keith hadn’t seen before, a sort of warmth that didn’t compete with the stupid copper tang. It flushed his cheeks, made his eyes sparkle, gave him dimples when he grinned.

 

Keith was contemplating Lance’s single bared foot that lay stretched out at a weird angle, while the human repaired a sock, when he picked up a sound at the edge of his ability.

He perked up immediately. A howl.

_Shiro is calling me._

He was on his feet and dashing out of the cave before he’d even truly processed it or given Lance any warning. A growl tore from his throat, the howl had sounded so _desperate_ , Keith couldn’t think.

 

“Shiro is calling me” he transmitted, the thought echoing around his head, growing louder with each repetition.

 

He didn’t hear Lance call out after him, nor did he turn to see the human leaning at the entrance of the cave, out of breath from the simple movement of getting to his feet.

“Wait!”

Keith’s black shape disappeared between the trees.

 

\-----

 

There it was again.

The silence.

 

It settled over him like a too-heavy blanket, suffocating and dark and clammy. He could feel the last remaining puffs of oxygen floating away, following the sprinting black shape, following the sound of paws hitting snow that slowly disappeared, making him see stars.

He jolted when he heard a howl. He knew it was Keith, letting this ‘Shiro’ know he was on his way, letting him know there was someone coming for him.

 

 _Is there someone coming for_ me?

 

Lance shuddered, suddenly feeling the chill as his eyes continued to stare unblinking into the abyss of dark trees. Their shapes and placements were entirely foreign to him, he’d never been this far north before - at least that’s where he believed he was, north of his own cave.

To the left, Timberwolf Mountain loomed large and foreboding, nothing more than a black shadow blotting out the stars in the night and gazing down at him with such a crushing force he struggled to keep his knees from buckling.

Alone.

Again.

 

“Listen, I miss him too, but we have to continue.”

Lance froze where he stood.

That voice - Pidge?

In an instant he was back in a dingy abandoned farmhouse. The smell of tires and dust raked over his nostrils as he managed to somehow, slowly turn his head.

Morning light filtered in through boarded up windows, illuminating Pidge’s silhouette as she fiddled with something mechanical. Beside her, leaning against a truck forty years too old to function he saw a flickering version of himself.

Eyes puffy, with a bandage around his hand, arm in a sling, wearing what Lance now knew was too little clothing.

Lance blinked slowly, watching the scene unfold, just as he knew it had.

Flickering Lance slid down the side of the truck, curling in on himself as he started crying again. Pidge didn’t react.

It had been before he’d cut his hair, he realized, brown locks dirty and clotted as they fell over his face.

“It isn’t fair.” Lance sobbed. Real-lance mumbled along with his lines, half a second too late, creating an odd echo-effect.

“Life isn’t fair” was the curt reply. Something clinked to the floor.

“They didn’t have to shoot him- They shouldn’t have- He was just- Oh god. He’s-”

“SHUT UP.” Pidge slammed the storm lantern down on the table next to her, tools clattering with the force, accompanied by the sound of cracking glass. Both Lances winced.

“If you cannot function like a normal fucking person then I’ll have no choice but to leave you behind. _It’s been two weeks_.” Pidge hissed, “If we don’t make it to the mountain before August we’ll be cut off- do you understand? We have to reach my dad’s shelter!” Her voice was stern, but there was something vulnerable in there that Lance hadn’t noticed when he had lived in that moment. He wanted to reach out and hug her, wanted to tell her it was okay.

He was supposed to be the adult here.

 

The flickering version of himself looked at Pidge over the edge of his sleeve where his arms hugged his knees, eyes red and squinting, burning. _Don’t-_ But he had already done it, many months ago.

“If you don’t kill yourself before, that is”

Pidge emitted a strange sound, like a ‘hic’ and a sob. Her eyes were wide, hurt clear on her face, even as Lance pressed on.

“So yeah, please, mr. _normal fucking person_ , tell me more about how I’m the one holding us back”

Pidge still didn’t move, frozen where she stood, one hand on the table and her sleeve riding up ever so slightly. Bloody bandages peeked into the sunlight, angry red lines scoured the skin where they weren’t needed.

As Lance watched her from his place at the entrance of the cave, a strange overlay of the scene at the barn, he felt his heart clench.

_She’s only a child._

 

“What, you thought I didn’t know?” Lance scoffed. Tears started drawing white lines down over his dirty cheeks once more, even as he watched Pidge with an expression void of any empathy.

Silence.

 

It felt as though the world was lagging.

 

Lance’s vision flickered and all of a sudden they were both looking at him. He couldn’t move. Pidge walked towards him, straight through the fireplace Keith had made. Her expression had warmed, a small smile playing at her lips, something reminiscent of his oldest memories of her. He realized then that the old version of himself was lying motionless on the ground of the cave, the barn faded away. Was he dead?

 

“You’re still alive. You made it to the mountain.” Pidge’s voice was soft, her eyes never blinked. Lance shivered and felt tears creep down his cheeks as he tried and failed to move backwards, away from the ghost. He felt the ground hitting his back before he registered that he had fallen. Pidge stopped moving, towering over him and filling his entire vision.

 

“Did you make it to my dads hideout? Did you find him? Did you tell him I’m okay?” The questions poured out of her mouth.

“Did you save my things? Did you burn them? Did you bury my body?  Did yOU EVEN FIND ME? DID YOU-” her words had risen to incoherent screaming as blood started pouring out between her teeth, splattering on the ground. Her face ripped, little lines of red, more blood. He couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away. It didn’t even look like pidge anymore, it looked like -

 

He screamed.

_______

  


He woke up still lying on the ground. Cold soreness spread throughout his consciousness like ink dripping into water, as he realized there was snow on his forehead. He sniffed some snot in and blinked drowsily, sitting up and looking around the cave for any sign of -

Nothing. The cave was empty.

 

He made a fire with numb fingers and curled up in the nest of blankets Keith had told him would be his place to sleep until he could go back to his own den, but he found it difficult to fall asleep.

He watched the flames lick over their fuel, eyes not managing to focus on anything in particular. He slowly heated up, warmth curling around him gently and making the pain in his throat dissolve with time, placating his inner turmoil.

It had been a while since he’d seen Pidge like that. The last time had been … A few days before the bear attack? How long ago was that now? Lance counted backwards in his head, a strange fuzziness spreading in his stomach at the thought of the time he’d spent with Keith. A month? Two months? It felt like ages.

 

That meant it must be february soon.

He breathed out shakily and didn’t realize he’d started crying again before his vision blurred and he dried the tears away with his sleeve. It felt like someone had ripped out his heart, leaving a void, eating away at his insides.

A year since the apocalypse.

It felt unreal. Thinking of the life he had before felt like a dream, a trick of the mind. Surely he’d always been wandering the canadian wilderness, surely this had been all he’d ever known, surely all this hurt, all this pain and suffering and unfairness was just something he’d dreamt up. Surely this existence couldn’t be real.

 

He was reminded that it was very very real when he heard the tell-tale sound of clicks on rock and turned to be faced with a wolf wholly unfamiliar to him. The creature watched him with the neutrality only an animal could muster even as Lance visibly flinched and tried inching away, instinctual fear of predators taking over regardless of his mind yelling at him that this must be ‘Shiro’, that this was Keith’s packmate, that it had no reason to hurt him.

“Keith worries about you” he heard, thought or thought he thought. The sound reverberated through him, making his body ache painfully. He wasn’t sure why it was so different to ‘hear’ this creature compared to Keith, shouldn’t it be the same?

“H-he does?” Lance managed to stutter, voice strained. He squinted, trying to take in the visage of the wolf in front of him.

God, Shiro was _big_. Head and snout stark white with black lines running from eyes to ears blending into the same shade as Keith’s fur on the rest of his body. It looked like someone had taken an eraser and tried to wash off the black color from his head, leaving strands of black here and there.

Lance couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but Shiro looked more … otherworldly, than Keith did. Exotic.

He doubted he would ever think this was a normal wolf even at a distance, if not for anything else then because of his coloration.

 

“I did not” rang out a familiar voice as Keith trotted up from behind Shiro. Lance felt his stomach flutter for reasons he didn't have the energy to figure out at the sight of him and managed a small smile as he raised a hand in an awkward wave. Keith paused, eyes fixing on him and before Lance knew it he was overwhelmed by a transmission of giddy happiness that cut off just as soon as it had come, leaving Lance woozy, hand still in the air, expression one of stunned silence. His mind did the equivalent of a hiccup.

Another transmission followed quickly thereafter, from Shiro, a little less harsh this time - laughter? The larger wolf was nuzzling Keith’s mane with his snout.

Keith scoffed suddenly, pacing a few steps away before sitting down with his back to Shiro, tail thumping in what Lance read as annoyance. Shiro cocked his head to the side and Lance couldn’t help but feel like he was being kept out of a conversation.

Could they really choose who they transmitted to?

He huffed and turned to poke around the fire with a stick from the pile beside him.

He could hear them move around, sometimes letting out small noises making Lance certain they were still speaking to each other. They sounded like dogs when he wasn’t looking at them. Clicks on the stones sounded the same as claws on linoleum flooring.

Reminded him of his grandma’s- He shoved that thought aside as quickly as it had come. Anything from before last february was a deadzone, he decided.

At least when he was around the wolves.

He focused on rearranging the fire, tried to make his mind go blank.

 

It was odd how comfortable he felt right in that moment, swathed in wool and skins and the warmth of the fire. Enveloped by the smell of fur and old meat and wilderness. Everything was fresh and real. Nothing like the dusty memory of waking up in a barn.

He felt something press into his side and he leaned into it as if by instinct, raking a hand through black fur. Behind the flames he watched Shiro lie down, eyes pinned on Lance and although he should feel awkward being stared down by another intelligent creature, the human part of him that wanted to pet and befriend animals enjoyed the attention of something so wild.

A few months ago, wolves only meant death. They were vicious and bloodthirsty and would not hesitate to hunt him down, dark shadows haunting the forests, a reason to always look over your shoulder. They were a constant looming threat, pressing down on his mind alongside the fear of cold and starvation.

Now, his worries had melted away. Because he had Keith, Keith would make sure he survived. Keith would take care of him. Keith was a wolf who wouldn’t eat him, he was warm and he would bring him food if he couldn’t get any on his own.

_Keith..._

He buried his face in the black fur at his side, finally feeling his fatigue gripping hold of him as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

“I’m happy you’re doing well” he heard Keith’s voice gently mingle with his own thoughts.

“Ngh, myeah” Lance mumbled, snuggling closer into his cocoon of warmth.

“Sorry about earlier, Shiro was …” Ah, there it was again, disturbing his content little world. Sure, Keith would help him out - but if Shiro needed him more? He’d leave Lance in an instant, just like he’d done earlier that day. He would bandon Lance at the mercy of his own mind without skipping another a beat.

He didn’t hear the last part of Keith’s sentence, his own thoughts were too loud, shouting at him that he was a second choice, a side-project.

A little part of him started protesting: So what? I’m still getting what I want, aren’t I? I don’t need him every hour of the day, I don’t _need_ -

Another voice, encircling the smaller one.

 _But you_ want _that, dont you?_

_No! I- Hunk-_

_Hunk is dead._

 

His eyes snapped open and he realized it wasn’t fur he was clinging on to. He was pressed up against Keith’s naked body, hands in his hair, face nestled in his neck. Keith’s arms were lying loosely around Lance’s torso while his chest slowly rose and fell. Asleep.

Lance laid as still as he could, not wanting to wake him, even as he struggled to keep from sobbing. He breathed in through his nose, inhaling the snot that threatened to run down his lips, and with it got a good whiff of Keith.

There was no spice, no earthy warmth, nothing to confuse his mind this time. There was only crisp, clean winter, fur and pine and smoke. There was only Keith.

Hunk was gone.

Keith was here, he was close and kind and real. He was warm.

Lance snuggled closer, which elicited a soft noise from the wolf-boy, who only clung on tighter, cheek pressed against Lance’s hair.

 

A part of him wondered; When is it okay to let go?

When would he stop worrying about the aching guilt and start considering the possibility of a future? A future without Hunk, without Pidge, without his family and without civilization as he knew it. Without anything but wilderness for miles and miles, nothing but his own mind.

If that truly was his future, he couldn’t keep the ghosts around, not even just for company.

He’d go insane.

Hell, if he hadn’t already.

Even if he had, there would be no consequences, no one to judge him for his happiness. He took a deep breath and dared to allow himself to think of a future in which he was happy, attempted to imagine what that would look like. He relaxed against Keith’s side and drifted off again, this time much gentler, rising up on a cloud filled with a whole other kind of anxiety.

The good kind, where his chest felt full of butterflies, seeking refuge from the cold.

  


He quickly found, now that he was better, he had trouble standing still. He’d been cooped up in caves and on bedrolls for so long he just wanted to get outside and run around and gather things and be useful. Just the thought of spending another day mending clothes or reorganizing his things or sitting around doing nothing made him feel sour and moody.

Shiro had left early in the morning, Keith told him later, explaining that the larger wolf didn’t spend much time in the cave but was often out and about looking for creatures in peril. Lance understood he was some sort of healer? Perhaps that was why his ribs had healed a month before they should have - not that he wasn’t thankful.

He felt somewhat thankful for his absence, too. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being measured, studied by the other creature, as if it knew something he didn’t and it was driving him nuts. Manners, and perhaps a little bit of fear, stopped him from asking about it so he instead tried to simply avoid Shiro as best he could. Not that it was hard given how Shiro appeared to be avoiding him as well.

Keith didn’t voice any worries though, so perhaps that was just normal?

 

“Where are you going?” he heard Keith’s words as soon as he started walking towards the cave entrance. He’d watched him dress and get ready in silence, now he trotted up to join him. Lance felt a small burst of happiness that it was not even a question that Keith would follow him.

“I’d like to start hunting again, y’know, help out.”

“With _that_?” Keith sounded like he was … joking? Lance couldn’t help but grin, hoisting his axe up on his shoulder and posing with it as he walked onto the snow. It wasn’t as deep as he expected.

“No, this is for the saplings I’m gonna be cutting down to make a bow”

“But you already have a bow” Keith noted. Lance raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah but I lost it, you know, didn’t go back for it after the bear”

A beat of silence in which Keith seemed to deliberate with himself, then he stopped and nudged Lance in the side to do so as well.

“I did.” There was something shy about the voice in his head, it was quiet, as if Keith was embarrassed. Boy he was showing a whole new range of emotions this morning. Lance blinked.

“You did?”

Keith nodded, an odd motion for a wolf and looked back towards his cave. Lance frowned.

“But I didn’t see it when I-”

A slight whine from the wolf. He lifted his front paws one at a time - fidgeting? Lance couldn’t help but smile.

“I didn’t want Shiro to see it, so I hid it in the back. Want to see it?” Lance did, but he had also been very much looking forward to getting out of the cave. He hesitated.

“Do you … have arrows?” he asked. Keith sent him a negative prompting Lance to grin victoriously and begin walking again.

“I have some arrowheads back at my den, and I bet we can find a carcass somewhere the crows have been at for fletchings. So now we just need-” he rustled through his mind trying to think of where he’d last seen birch saplings, but of course he didn’t know this region as well as he did the area around his own cave. He couldn’t really remember much from the blizzard in which he guessed he’d been carried to their cave.

 

“By the way, how did you find me?” he asked tentatively, not looking at Keith as he worked his way through the snow. High steps kept snow out of his boots.

“What do you mean?”

“In the blizzard, no way you could track me through that” he laughed conversationally, breathing starting to get strained - he’d gotten way out of shape from sitting still for so long.

“I didn’t, Shiro found you. He always knows when someone is hurt.”

“Huh”

The thought of Shiro finding him and carrying him through a blizzard sent conflicting emotions through him. He _was_ thankful, that wasn’t it. He couldn’t figure out why he felt … violated somehow. He’d just sort of accepted that Keith had been the one to save him, again. Had enjoyed the thought that-

His cheeks felt warm despite the cold.

 

Eventually, they found some saplings, cowering in a collection of thick brush that caused several cuts on Lance’s face as he fought bravely to reach them. Keith watched him with what Lance had to begrudgingly call amusement although the wolf was quickly forgiven when he sauntered up to Lance, who was sitting in the snow to gather himself. Keith nudged him to turn his way and upon his doing so licked his cheeks. Ugh, slimy, warm dog tongue.

He laughed and tried to cover himself, but Keith continued mercilessly, prompting Lance to fall backwards.

Keith let out small yips as he continued his assault despite Lance’s cuts being healed ages ago.

“Alright, alright!” Lance laughed, finally managing to put an arm between him and the wolf, holding him away from his face. “Im healed! I surrender!”

Keith was panting, tongue hanging out, eyes sparkling. He looked just like an overgrown dog excited to have a playmate, thrashing, tail wagging - until suddenly he wasn’t a wolf anymore. Lance continued grinning for a moment more, face frozen until he swallowed thickly.

Keith’s eyes were so much larger when he was in human form, Lance felt like he might lose himself in them, they were that close. The wolf-boy was still grinning, showing black gums and fangs and all as he breathed a shuddering laugh. A puff of vapor collided, warm, with Lance’s cheeks, or was he blushing? He couldn’t tell. He felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Then Keith seemed to register the change in Lance’s expression and his grin fell away. Lance watched him lick his lips.

Something flickered in Keith’s expression, like a fire taking hold in his eyes,  lips mouthing something he couldn’t decipher and - had he moved closer? The span between them was so short Lance couldn’t tell. Their noses brushed together.

All he could see were those moonlit eyes, filling his entire world, staring at him unblinking, large black pools surrounded by white, moving closer, the warmth of a body pressing down on his own, a hand by his ear-

He tried to say something, tried to get his body to move, but he was frozen, pinned down, shivering.

He managed a high-pitched squeak.

 

It was enough to alert Keith whose pupils instantly snapped shut and the weight on Lance lifted as the other rolled over in the snow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” there was something vulnerable in his voice and Lance was abruptly aware of how fast his heart was beating.

“N-no its uh, its alright” He managed to stutter, trying desperately to control his breathing.

The hell was that? It was like Keith had been about to _kiss_ him.

Did Keith even know what kissing was?

He dared looking to the side although he could barely see anything over the fur of his hood and the snow that had piled up on either side of him. He could see Keith’s profile rise out of the pillowy crystals, eyes gazing at the sky, puffs of vapor escaping his mouth which laid slightly open. Black hair a stark contrast to his pale complexion and the snow.

Human and yet very much not so. Breathtaking, to be sure.

 

It took him a moment to add; _But not Hunk_.

Strange, it hadn’t been his first thought this time.

 

They made it back to the cave late in the afternoon and Lance immediately set to work starting a fire and heating up a can of baked beans. He prepared the birch saplings while waiting, happy with how straight they were, enjoying the feeling of keeping his hands and eyes busy so they didnt stray to the wolf accompanying him.

Shiro joined them when twilight had just begun to settle and asked polite questions about what Lance was doing, seemingly intrigued by his method of hunting.

The two wolves left a little while later; Keith explained they were going to hunt and parted with the promise that they would bring something back for Lance.

 

He was a little overwhelmed when Keith dropped an entire leg in front of him just as he was about to nod off for the evening, letting out a yelp and almost dropping the knife he was toying with. Keith grinned and licked his blood-stained snout, following Shiro to where he had laid down to digest.

Lance groaned and forced himself to set to work preparing it so it wouldn’t be rotten by morning, receiving a mental prod from Keith to be happy they at least brought something back for him. The wolf added teasingly;

“Now that you’re supposed to be hunting for yourself again.”

Lance didn’t respond, but he felt his insides flutter pleasantly.

 

The next morning Lance was the first to wake up. The nightmare he’d been having was still raking its claws over the void in his chest, but he didn’t feel as panicked as he usually did, much to his relief. He yawned, combing his hair with his hand as he stretched, noting that he might have to cut it again soon and scratched his chin which had never been able to grow much of a beard. Which sucked, really, some extra protection from the wind would’ve been welcome. Plus it looked cool.

He looked over to the pile of sleeping black fur, white peeking out at the top, and wondered briefly if Keith was able to grow a beard. He was generally hairy all over, Lance’s stomach did a strange twist at that thought, but his chin had seemed mostly barren, save for some stubble.

_Would Keith think a beard looked cool?_

 

He ate some of the leg the wolves had brought him the day before for breakfast and picked up a birch sapling. It had an offshoot he was having trouble whittling away, which proved a welcome time-filler while waiting for the sun to gather some strength. He was still at it when Shiro left the cave, sending him the mental equivalent of a wave, and woke Keith up in the process. The other wolf leisurely padded to where Lance was sitting and laid down next to him, over time snuggling closer and closer, seemingly still half-asleep.

There was a comfortable half silence only penetrated by the sound of a knife raking over wood and the occasional noise from Keith. Lance heard crows cawing in the distance.

 

“Were you always alone?”

The question didn’t startle him enough to stop working, but he felt his heart clench in warning as he opened his mouth to answer.

“No. I told you about Hunk, didn’t I?” He was surprised his throat didn’t close up at the name. He didn’t even sound upset despite the smoldering emotions threatening to burst into flames if he dared ventured deeper into those memories, especially with a shoulder to cry on lying conveniently to his left.

“You said she was a friend” He could feel Keith’s eyes on him.

“He” Lance corrected

“He” Keith echoed, voice pitched in surprise. Lance sighed as the silence stretched, tried to ignore the tail thumping behind his back.

“But … When you woke up calling his name you seemed-” Keith tried, and in his mind Lance could hear the uncertainty. Lance cocked an eyebrow as he finally met the wolf’s gaze.

His hands stopped working, dropping to his lap in the midst of bits of wood and worn leather, still clutching the sapling and his knife.

“Yeah, we were together” He said.

“What happened?” Keith’s voice mingled ever so gently with his thoughts that started swirling around the memory of Hunk, trying to figure out what to say. What did happen? Where should he start?

He felt so empty.

“He was shot.”

Something was cracking inside of him, something was reaching through and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to welcome it in or not. He put a hand on Keith’s head and scratched behind his ear like he’d always done to his grandma’s dog to calm himself. The fur felt warm around his fingers and on the palm of his hand as he let it rest there and tried thinking of how continue from there. Keith seemed content to wait until he was ready.

He took a shuddering breath.

“We were on a supply run near Mystery Lake, there’s some cabins there we were sure hadn’t been looted and we ... “ He released his grip in Keith’s fur when the wolf emitted a whiny noise and apologised for hurting him. “We ran into a group of survivors who demanded we join their group and share our stuff. They were .. basically just assholes” he huffed, surprised that all the hate and anger he’d harbored towards them seemed to have fizzed out since last he’d dared think about it. Odd, really. He leaned into Keith for comfort, who reciprocated by curling further around him.

“Hunk tried to tell them to back down, but they had rifles and they-” finally his throat closed up. He breathed sharply through his teeth as the first drops of tears made their way down his cheeks, he buried his face in Keith’s mane.

“Its okay” he heard Keith’s voice in his head. It felt like shelter and he clung to it as he surveyed the broken wasteland of his mind for what had happened next.

“They shot him and I just ran. I just _left_ him there.” He sobbed, his voice was barely a whisper as his other hand curled around Keith’s throat, hugging him like his life depended on it.

He remembered seeing the red in the snow before he registered the shot. He remembered turning around before the body hit the snow. He remembered hearing them shouting even as he grabbed hold of pidge and booked it out of there.

For a moment he thought he remembered seeing a black shadow following them as they ran, keeping up with them easily, circling them, closing in. Protecting them. Suddenly it was gone and the abrupt, freezing cold in its absence made Lance jolt and sit up from where he had enveloped himself in wolf-fur.

“Sorry” he heard from Keith and then, as explanation, “I wanted to see what was making you hurt like that.”

“You can do that?” He asked, dumbfounded, tears still wet on his cheeks although the pain had stopped and been replaced with wonder. In the back of his mind a small voice reminded him that he should feel violated, but the idea of actual fucking mind reading, or some version of it, was so fantastic he couldn’t help but feel a little awed.

“I can usually do it with Shiro, I’ve never tried with anyone else” Keith replied, something shy fluttering in his voice.

“Huh” Lance said, remembering to wipe his eyes, “That’s uh, that’s pretty neat.”

He received a small pang of appreciation from Keith, before the wolf added;

“Who was that other person”

“Oh, that’s Pidge” Lance said, hit with the recoil of saying the name out loud a second later than he expected which somehow made it hurt less. The image of her bloodied face from his hallucination was still fresh in his mind, but all he felt was sadness.

He could have saved her.

 

Keith pushed his head against Lance’s hand, requesting another scratch behind his ear and Lance gladly obeyed, petting the wolf like he would have any other dog. They sat in silence for a while. Comfortable silence.

 

Lance felt like he was sitting in the eye of a storm, a blizzard, watching his inner turmoil rage its course around him while he himself was utterly unaffected. He watched the snow be flung around, saw faces and places reflected in the crystals before they flickered and disappeared. He felt set apart from his emotions, saw his pain and frustrations and then saw them flutter away. Somehow, he didn’t feel afraid to watch them swivel and ram into the others, didn’t flinch when the wind picked up and flung a whole cascades of memories into the air.

It still hurt, but it was a good kind of pain, sort of.

For the first time in a while he felt like maybe everything was going to be okay.

That maybe this existence wasn’t just a hollow imitation of his previous life.

 

Maybe it was okay to just accept it.

  



End file.
